Tinned Peaches

On the list of things I remember from spending time at my grandparent's house when I was little, tinned peaches are very near the top.  I can so clearly remember sitting at their kitchen table, eating peach slices in syrup.  I can picture the exact bowl and how I would split them in two, avoiding the fuzzy bit you sometimes get along the edge where they've been sliced too close to the stone; thick syrup dripping off the end of the spoon.

We had tinned peaches quite often and this memory isn't tied to any particular time, but when I think about it I see a beautiful day, sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window.  Maybe the back door was open - Grandma had one of those curtains made of colourful strips of plastic that would flap in the breeze.  Afterwards we probably played in the garden, pushed toy prams or rode bikes to the end of the drive and back again.

As I'm writing this, the sale of Grandma and Grandad's house is in progress.  It will belong to someone else soon.  I haven't really let myself think about it too much because it's so hard to accept that I'll never go there again;  for as long as I've been alive, it's been their house.  But I know that you don't need a physical place to hold your memories.  The pantry might be empty of tinned fruit and biscuits in tupperware boxes, but my heart will always be full, and there I'll always be able to find them.

❤

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