Isn’t it interesting how memories are made?

Sometimes, you make them intentionally. This could be done with taking part in traditions or attending special events. Sometimes, they happen out of life’s circumstances and seemingly random events.

There are happy memories, such as graduating from college. There are sad memories, such as a loved one passing away. There are countless occurrences in our daily life that never even make it to memory status. There are also countless memories that have been lost altogether or altered by our overworked mind as it tries to process so much information nonstop.

I grew up as a scrappy kid out in the countryside. The ice cream man never drove down my street and we didn’t go trick-or-treating. I had an Easy Bake Oven and loved making tiny cookies and brownies in it. My brothers and I played one of the original versions of The Oregon Trail on a computer at school. The haunting howls of coyotes carried eerily through the night air, while crickets chirped the night away. Farmers would put out bee hive boxes in early spring so that the bees could pollinate the orchards. The sky sparkled at night with so many twinkling and wondrous stars. I had a somewhat sheltered childhood and I am glad for it.

Now fast forward to the present. I have my own children, we live in the city, and I know that memories are being made in their precious hearts and curious minds. The idea for today’s blog post came from a simple event that happened yesterday with my kids.

Just recently this summer, a panadera (Mexican bread baker) had started driving around my neighborhood, selling her delicious baked goods (pan dulce) out of a fancy bakery truck emblazoned with her bakery’s logo and address on the sides. My husband speaks Spanish, so he began teaching our kids some words related to the “bread lady.” Yesterday, we heard her familiar and distinctive-sounding horn off in the near distance. It had been a few weeks since she had come around to our street, so we decided to grab our money (and face masks) and head outside.

As we were waiting for her to make her way through the neighborhood, my children were keeping busy by playing in the front yard while I watered some shrubs and plants. I was thinking about how lucky my kids were to have this cultural experience. I smiled to myself as I saw them jump up and down with excitement when she pulled up in front of our house. My heart was glad to see their eyes widen when she (decked out in a mask and gloves) opened the door to reveal the wonderful variety of goodies she had baked. The aroma wafted out and you can just imagine how amazing it was, even with our masks on!

All the while this was happening, I knew my husband and I were helping our children to have warm memories of their childhood. Life is difficult for practically everyone these days due to covid19, so it’s a bit of a blessing to have small things in life such as this to embrace and experience joy.

I would love to hear about any memories from your childhood that you’d like to share.

As always, thanks for stopping by. ❤