There is one smell in this world that never fails to take me back home. Not the home I share with my family now, but the home where I was young and Innocent and safe. The place where I grew up. Still to this day if I smell peanut brittle I go back to that special time when all I wanted to do was play barefoot outside. A time when the only worry I had was how late my mom going to let me stay out. I grew up in the best neighborhood. It was full of kids of all ages and we spent everyday outside. We built forts and rode bikes and made mud pies. We had enough kids to make two kickball teams, and there was a permanent diamond wore in our front yard from the nightly games. This was such a wonderful time in my life.
My mom was the best cook ever, and every night she would make us the most tasty southern meal. The weekends were the best, because that is when she would make her special peanut brittle for dessert. In the brief moments that I would stop my adventures and go inside it was all I could smell. The aroma alone can make me feel like I am back there again.
One day I was sharing this memory with my daughter when my mom overheard. She proceeded to tell me the rest of the story. See, what to me had been a magical time of fun and innocence was the opposite for my mother. During this time things were rough for my parents. We didn't have a lot of money, as a result my mother had started watching a boy after school. His mom would pay her seven dollars a week for this service. This was all the money my mother would have to feed our family of five. As you can imagine this was very stressful for her; however, through her food that was so lovingly made I was protected from it.
I thank God for my mama and the smell of peanut brittle!
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