Ever notice how memories slip into the activities of our everyday lives? Things we don’t think of until something or someone triggers that long ago memory and it rushes to the forefront of our minds.
Several years ago while caring for my mother, near the end of her life, I wanted to help get her to eat. She’d suffered another of several congestive heart failure episodes, and the nurses encouraged some fruit. I brought bananas, something I knew she enjoyed.
Recently staff had begun mashing her food, so I mashed the bananas. Their aroma overwhelmed my senses. You know…that smell only a fresh banana has.
As I continued mashing, I remembered doing the same for my son when he was an infant. No doubt Mama had mashed bananas for him, and other grandchildren, and for her children.
My next thoughts moved to contemplate how the cycle of life catches up with us in the mundane. As my mind wandered back through generations, I imagined my grandmother engaged in the same activity, and her mother, and on and on.
Among my thoughts was the process of aging. As we age our bodies and our abilities revert to how we were as children. Unable to care for ourselves. Unable to read or write. Even in our eating things change.
Life — its beginning and ending so similar.
Image by Markus Naujoks from Pixabay
Your sweet story reminds me of the ubiquitous training story about the woman who cut the end off the ham because her mother did, and her mother before her. Great-granny was still around, so they asked her, “Granny, why do you cut the end off the ham?”
“So it would fit in my pan!”
Yes, I know, mashing bananas is different. Actually, that can’t go too far back, because banana production in the western hemisphere only became widespread in the late 1800s, which is also when rail transportation spread west.
I think of my foremothers making enchiladas and chile sauce and boiling up a pot of pinto beans.
Oh, Sharon, I needed a good laugh today and you gifted me with this one! Thanks so much. Kitchen and food stories are easily remembered for a number of reasons. Some are real corkers, aren’t they? Good to “see you” and hope all is well in Texas.
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