Peonies & hard-boiled eggs

My peonies are blooming. They always pop out around Mother’s Day. My Grandpa would give each girl in the family a peony on Mother’s Day. I can’t see a peony without thinking of him.

Lots of things remind me of grandparents – so many sweet memories of them. There are pictures floating around in our family from Canton, Texas in the 70s. My parents were rocking the 70s look and I was a baby. There are also pictures from the 80s, as we all grew up a little in that place. My grandparents had a booth among the hundreds of vendors selling everything and anything. Canton is a different place these days – a massive outdoor flea market with old and new. I remember running around the dirt roads, the hike to the one bathroom and the way everyone seemed to know my grandpa.

I also remember running to their booth and right away asking Grandma for a hard boiled egg from her cooler. She always let me put my own salt and pepper on it. I had to be pretty young. To this day, when I eat a hard boiled egg, I think about my Grandma.

Funny the things that remind me of those I love. Peonies and hard-boiled eggs. I’m guessing Grandma would have never thought that eggs from her cooler at the flea market would be something I’d always remember.  I was so young and yet those memories are vivid and strong.

In fact, most of my childhood memories are of seemingly random things instead of the big events. I don’t remember very many birthday parties or vacations. I remember Grandma always having an egg for me and letting me put the salt & pepper on by my big girl self.

Grandpa made me feel special with a peony. Grandma did the same with hard boiled eggs. As I wonder what, in these seemingly routine and small days, my kids will remember, I sure hope it involves making them feel loved and special.