I've been stuck in front of my computer for the better part of the day working on homework. The trip outside to do chores Around 6 was a welcome distraction. I reveled in the raindrops cascading down my face and the crisp fall air. It finally feels like October. My dad had even started a fire in the fireplace in my parents living room, and I inhaled deeply as a breeze brought the musky scent to my nose. Call me crazy, but I've always loved the smell of a fire in the fireplace. It takes me back to holiday afternoons gathered around the fire with a cup of tea or hot cocoa, playing board games with my family while a heavy snow carpets the landscape beyond our windows. Times I will treasure always. The trip to do chores was a couple of hours ago and the grind of finalizing a presentation for my Literary Editing class was beginning to ware on me. Just as I thought I'd had enough, an angelic voice could be heard drifting up the stairs to the loft apartment my kids and I live in. "Just a minute, I'm going to bring this upstairs to Steph." More heavenly words have never been spoken, especially when I know my mom has been baking for the same amount of time as I've been typing out this presentation. (Power point and I, are only just beginning to be on speaking terms).
I'd been inwardly drooling over the smell of pastry, sugar and cinnamon that had been tickling my nose for the last hour, so the idea of a potential plate being brought to my rescue was a true life saver. Determined to stay focused I only paused when the plate was finally settled on the table next to me. "Just for you." I'm in my 30's and there is nothing better than my mom's home cooked pastry. But this time she had brought me a slice of my childhood, "snails" The leftover bits of pie pastry rolled out and spread with either a jam, preserves, or lemon curd and then rolled up and sliced so that a lovely spiral of pastry and filling can be seen on the side and the shape resembles that of the little critters they are named for. My favorites though, and the flavor which suddenly in front of me, taking me back to a simpler childhood is cinnamon sugar. There they are on the plate before me, four precious cinnamon sugar snails. One bite and I was 7 years old again, trembling hand reaching over the counter trying to grab a steaming snail from the pie plate. Too eager to wait for them to cool. They were better than the pie itself, which was saying something considering my mom's pie attracted neighbors far and wide to our table.
Hours of homework suddenly faded away and I savored the first bite, then the second. We all have them, those little triggers which transport us to another time and place. A time when life seemed simpler and the joys of childhood easier to embrace. Each snail was a bit of Christmas, a taste of winters in Massachusetts playing in the snow with my brother, gathering around a packed table at Thanksgiving and glaring at any family member willing to take the last snail. I savor every sweet bite and for a brief moment forget about the task ahead of me. Forget about my Spanish test, stop worrying about the presentation or my Math homework.
I've just looked down, WHO ATE MY LAST SNAIL??!??
