Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Scent of Memories

I am one of those for whom smells can, in the blink of an eye, bring back memories from days gone by.  Today, the memories have created a whirlwind in my mind.

A trip to Ma's house always meant the opportunity for a cinnamon roll.  Whether the visit was a quick one after church on Sunday mornings just to say hello or maybe the need for a place to land for a few hours after school and before the next extracurricular activity, you could always count on a cinnamon roll.

Now these weren't just ANY cinnamon rolls.  They were Ma's homemade ones that were the best ones on the planet, hands down.  I don't think any cinnamon roll will ever take the prize of the "best on the planet."  Ever.  Whether fresh on the counter, or warmed from the freezer, there was just nothing better. 


As I've grown older, I've come to realize it was more than the taste that made the cinnamon rolls so tasty.  Now don't get me wrong--they were scrumptious.  But what came with the cinnamon roll was just as special.  A conversation about my day at school.  The latest happenings at church.  Family news.  The sweetest encouragement you could ever ask for.  I could always tell Ma about an accomplishment, no matter what it was, knowing she wouldn't take it as bragging, and knowing she would be so proud.  And tell me so.  Every time.  And if ever there was correction that needed to be given, it would be so coated with love and sweetness that you didn't even realize you were being corrected, but yet the lesson stuck.

I've begun my own little tradition of making Ma's cinnamon rolls every year at Christmas.  Maybe it's because I become more senitmental than usual during the holiday seaons.  Maybe it's because I miss her and need to revisit those sweet memories. 

As the scent of homemade cinnamon rolls is making its way through my house, a few tears find their way down my cheeks.  I wish Ma were still here.  I'd so love for my kids to know her.  And for them to know her.  And her love.  And her sweet correction. 

If she were here, I'd put a warm roll on a Christmas plate for each of us, pour her a cup of coffee, and sit down at the table for a chat.  I'd tell her all about Benjamin and Hannah.  How smart they are.  How funny they are.  How sweet they are.  How ornery they are.  How much I love them.  And she wouldn't take it as bragging.  And she would tell me how proud she was of me.  And of them.  Every time.


2 comments:

Bev said...

Such sweet words - she is honored by them I'm sure. Isnt it great that God gives us a few people in our lives who allow us to pour out our words, chaff and grain and they so gently sift them. Merry Christmas sweet friend.

Allison said...

Thanks so much for your sweet comment. That cinnamon roll looks divine! Won't help me lose weight, though. I will worry about that after Disney.