Breakfast was late this morning. It was an overcast Sunday and I was still in my “I make bedtime fun” nightie. My freshly brewed tea hung out in the kitties wearing sweaters mug. I had butter at the ready as I waited for the hot X buns to heat up in their foil blanket, nestled in the oven. The smell of cinnamon and raisins casually wafted around me.
Buns in the oven reminded me of Easter growing up on the farm. We were only allowed hot x buns on Good Friday and they were always heated in the oven this way; slightly crunchy on the outside, warm and squidgy in the centre. Butter would melt into the porous bread as soon as it touched the surface. This morning, I had cheated and delved into a good solid bun well before Easter.
The cup of tea reminded me of late weekend breakfasts of past and sneaky 2am cups of tea after coming home from the pub. That in turn reminded me of not currently being hungover and I was not only thankful for the sleep-in but stoked that I was also not in the state of having my head explode.
Then my mind wandered as it so does at every opportunity it can get and I realised that we live to create memories that we can later relive and share. I loved nothing more than trekking down memory lane with Mr T. We’d start with a random moment and spontaneously dart from tale to tale, laughing hysterically at every opportunity as tangents rampaged. Even though we were recollecting memories that weren’t that long ago at the time, they were still just as delicious to listen to.
I have a colleague that relishes in sharing a story at lunchtime from his youth whilst slicing bits of apple with his Swiss Army knife. At any given time he can relate something we will be conversing about to a memory lying in wait. It’s at those moments that you learn from other’s recollections and a lot about two-tone paint.
From tracing back your footsteps of the night before with your comrades in crime inducing snort-laughing sessions, to reminiscing over Nana’s old Scrabble habits…. or the good times that sneak up on you when least expect it. I’m so glad I’m not a goldfish, because creating great memories are what I live for.