Every Sunday, our family would drive an hour west to visit my grandparents. As a very young child, I remember this trip was something that I looked forward to and didn’t realize that it had a significant impact on my life as an adult.
I was sitting in the back seat of whatever car we had, no seatbelt, car seat, rubber bumpers, or airbags to protect us from driving hazards. Life seemed simple then; just get in the car with some toys and go. The only threat was wondering when my brother and I would start fighting and we’d get the evil look from one of our parents in the front seat. It was so much fun looking out the window and noticing all the other cars, trees, houses, and driving down the highways that felt like we were going super fast.
Grandma’s house was small around but tall, with two floors. It was a brick home with a garden where magic grew in all colors. The smells coming from the garden were amazing. There was a big tree in the middle of her yard that she made tea from; I believe it was a Linden tree. This tree always had bees flying around it and tiny tea leaves that looked like boomerangs. To this day, I have not seen this type of tree. Did it exist only in my mind or just in Grandma’s magic garden?
The first steps into her home were like stepping into a magic portal. There were all kinds of knick-knacks on the walls and counters throughout the house that I spent hours looking at. I had to touch everything and smell it, why you ask? I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure it had to do something with getting my senses sharpened, the same senses that I so heavily rely on today.
The aroma of coffee filled the air; it was the best smell ever! Coffee permeated the fabric of my clothes and was a reminder of grandmas house until my mom did the laundry, and it was gone. The scent was gone but not the memory of coffee that I was only allowed to smell but not taste.
What stood out in grandmas house were the colors on the walls. The kitchen had white cabinets. The old stove and sink she had also was white and cold to the touch. Maybe this is why I’m not such a fan of white, because it felt cold at grandmas house.
What I clearly, clearly remember was the color that was on the kitchen walls. It was a shade of yellow that, to this day, I still have not seen. When I gazed at the walls, it was like looking into the eyes of the sun. It felt warm, inviting and just made me smile and feel joy to my core. This color was grandma.
Not only was the color magical, but it felt amazing as well. It was a super shiny sheen, semi-gloss in today’s terms, and everything seemed to reflect off the walls. The sun would hit it just right, and it would look like a spark of lightning. It was so shiny and felt so smooth it was almost like a mirror. This color, is forever embedded in the storage of my mind.
I am not posting a graphic of grandmas magic yellow, it’s for you to imagine in your mind and remain in mine. If you love a color today, think back to your youth and uncover memories that are stored deep into your mind. Find out why you love those colors and bring that memory forward. It’s in your mind and heart for a reason.