My Grandma Lenahan was an excellent grandmother. I used to call her every week. She passed away over 7 years ago. My grandma and I had a lot in common. We have the same hands. A shoe-shopping fetish extreme enough that it almost puts Imelda Marcos to shame (in fact, my grandmother bought a new pair of shoes the day she died). A love of mystery novels. A love of fashion. A love of vacations that don't require a lot of schlepping (i.e.: nice hotels, good food). We also both love Taster's Choice instant coffee. This is something that I started drinking about 3 years ago and fell in love with. When I mentioned this to my Aunt Jeannie, she said "No kidding! Your Grandma wouldn't drink any other kind of coffee!"
In these shared traits, I am constantly reminded of my grandmother. But the weird thing is, the other day I was eating toast with butter. This is something I do very frequently. And for some reason, the taste of it made me think of my Grandma. I thought that was kind of weird, but I thought nothing of it. Then later that night, thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with my Grandma, I left my apartment and the hallway was filled with the smell of my Grandmother's perfume. I have no idea what kind of perfume she wore, but I could recognize the smell anywhere. I've lived here for years, and I've never smelled her perfume before. It was really strange, but also really comforting.
This morning I asked my mom if Grandma ever made me toast, and she told me that between the ages of 3 and 5, everytime I saw my Grandma I asked her to make me toast. This was something I have no recollection of.
Memory is a strange thing. I realize that it is a very odd thing to be reminded about one's grandmother by toast. And while I tend not to believe such things, I can't help but think that just maybe, I had a friendly visitor.
