Memories of my Grandmother

My family and I went on vacation this past week. It's a place we have been before in a remote South Carolina town. We have actually travelled there five times, as it is an annual trip. We stayed in the same cabin we've stayed in three previous years and not much has changed in that cabin. Except for a few new area rugs, it has pretty much remained the same.

However something was different this year. All around me I experienced memories of my grandmother. I had never realized certain aspects of this cabin that reminded me of my grandmother's home that we visited quite often as children. I have very fond memories of her small two bedroom home that had one bathroom for seven people.

The doors of our vacation cabin in South Carolina are made of thick, burnt orange colored wood that are lacquered in heavy coating so they shine even in the dark. It's the kind of door that makes a loud, heavy sound when slammed. The kind of door that could take a finger off if the finger was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My Grandma Smith had these types of doors in her home. I specifically remember the one leading from her kitchen to her back porch and the endless times we would run through it to go play in the back yard or play restaurant on the back porch. It was also the door used to shield important phone conversations as the kitchen phone cord would reach out to the back porch and this heavy door would provide the barrier needed to keep those important conversations with my best friend private. They are big, solid doors. The handle on the doors in the cabin were black rod iron and I remember this same type of handle on my grandmother's front door leading into her home. The locking mechanism was tricky as it had a turn style lock that one could never quite figure out if it was in the locked or unlocked position. When you're anxious to get in to see grandma, this can be very frustrating as you hear here switching the lock back and forth.

Another memory that was brought to my mind were from the dishes in the cabin. They are a simple, plain white dish by Cornelle. For as long as I could remember my Grandmother Smith had Cornelle dishes. I can remember fearing that I would break one because they are so fragile. She often would comment that she needed to replace a piece of Cornelle but could never find the right pattern. In my later years of visiting her, she had received a new set of Cornelle dishes that were a dark beige with little pink and blue lines and flowers along the edge of the plates and rims of the cups. I remember thinking how pretty they were.

The last memory I experienced this vacation was probably the strongest and that is because it didn't have to do with a tangible item. It was a smell. I love when a smell will trigger a memory because it is fun to see what the mind can recall. The cabin does not have a dishwasher therefore all dishes must be washed by hand. There isn't even a scrub brush, so a dishrag must be used. As I was washing dishes one afternoon, I allowed the sink to fill with water and then squirted classic, green Palmolive dish soap into the basin. That's when the memory hit me. My grandmother must have used Palmolive dish soap. I can remember standing at her sink, helping her wash dishes and that very same smell entering my nostrils. Add this to the fact that I was washing Cornelle dishes with a dishrag and the memory intensified. I can remember immersing my hands in warm water to find the dishes sitting on the bottom of the sink basin and being very careful not to drop one or break it. I loved helping her wash the dishes.

As these simple little cabin items allowed me to relive memories from my grandmother's home, I found it quite curious that these were significant memories at all. However, we don't get to choose our memories. I don't get to choose what I remember from my grandmother's home, just as much as my children will not get to choose what they will remember. I so hope they remember certain aspects of our home and their grandparents' homes, but I cannot make it happen. One day, they'll be on vacation and a door, a dish or the smell of liquid dish soap will take them back to a time in their childhood and hopefully they'll smile, just like I did.