Years and years ago, I felt selfish because while growing up we did not travel to the "fun" destinations, but to grandma's house! I felt cheated and disappointed on missing the things my friends were enjoying.
Then mentally I grew up and realized how lucky and blessed by the Deities I was for having such a phenomenal childhood. Growing into my 20's my grandmothers were both deceased (I never met either grandfather, but that's another story) so visiting my husbands grandparents offered me yet another loving environment to be a "sponge" and absorb all the knowledge willingly offered.
All the grandmothers seemed so stern but their love broke through any barrier of language. From the way they dressed, cooked, regarded family and that sparkle in their eye, that was life. I loved it.
I still can see and smell and feel those environments, my homes away from home. The love offered unconditionally. Wow, I am so lucky I missed out.
I lived history. I lived heritage.
The holidays from school or vacation offered insight to a totally different world. Teaching me it was not material possessions but living with what your had. No hot water, an outhouse, a coal stove, a feather bed, and a chamber pot.
Recipes explained with "about this much" or "ahh, just a bit of that!" Or just watching one grandmother cook an entire day's meal, each day beginning with lighting the wood and putting in the coal and placing your hand in the oven to sense when it was ready for cooking or baking.
How lucky I was to experience something that people will pay for to get a taste of history.
What strength women had. Not just in their character. That sharp wit. The physical strength embodied in a fragile body. That natural ease to take what was given and live.
This may not have been a way most of my childhood friends would have wanted to experience on the regular basis like I had, but dang, I miss it more than I could explain verbally or with the written word.
This is how magick was brought into my life. Not knowing what it was, how it was said, but the day to day living I saw when visiting my grandmas.
I could go on and on!
The thrill of hearing my grandson speaking melodic even tones as a toddler and realizing he was chanting. (He hadn't been exposed) He was sitting at the breakfast table and my husband and I were standing there discussing my path and he just started doing it. My atheist husband stop not mid sentence but mid word! I will always remember that day.
Grandma's house, it's where the magick begins.
It's true and a very happy memory.
And my Grandma Magdalena only installed a water heater a year before she passed.
Grandma Lucia, 3 words to excite my senses, Italian Spaghetti Sauce!!!
I was thinking about my Nana this morning. All my memories are of her sitting at the table peeling veggies or boning a chicken and she cooked all day long - puffing on her Old Gold Straights!
I moved into an apartment after my divorce and opened a cabinet in the pantry and smelled Nana. It was a memory I had as a little girl at the first house she lived in and it had a certain smell. I had to grab the counter to steady myself and smile and say, Hi, Nana. Needless to say she hated my ex-husband, LOL.
I am so happy she visited you!
The memories, they just come flooding back, don't they.