Take Me Back Tuesday: Memories From Fire and Marshmallows

It is amazing to me how a memory will find its way from the safest hiding place in your heart and surface when you least expect it. That sort of thing seems to be happening to me a lot lately; an unexplainable memory comes flooding back on a moments notice.

We were in Colorado at our cabin last week, and normally all we do is work, work..... work. This time, we did make time to do a few of the things we usually just talk about doing and never actually get to do them.

One night, Steve, Matt and I, cooked out on the ground in a campfire. Simple meal.....hot dogs and fried potatoes. The guys grilled the hot dogs and I cooked the rest of the meal inside. This was a super easy dinner night for me....loved it. The weather was rather cool, we had to wear sweatshirts and I had to scoot extra close to the fire to stay warm.

It was so very peaceful sitting there among the stars and listening to breeze in the sway of the pine trees. There were no city noises to be heard, total silence except for the crackle and hiss of the fire.......wonderful. I snapped this photo as I walked back inside the cabin, the stars were just coming out and filling the sky with their magical lights. I wish I could capture the way the night sky looks in Colorado at 9400 feet on film, there are just no words.

Here is another shot that has no words....ahem.....I said hot dogs for dinner....not hot dogs for wieners!!!

Anyway....back to my story......after dinner we went back out to roast marshmallows over the coals. Oh, how I love a crispy, slightly burned marshmallow right out of the fire. I know smores are all the rage, but I prefer just-charred, warm marshmallows fresh out of the fire.

Suddenly, sitting there next to the fire, and shivering from the cool night air, I remembered just exactly how much I loved roasted marshmallows and how long it must have been since I last had some of these delicious treats.

Campfire talk turned to memory talk for me and I told the story of how I loved roasted marshmallows as a kid. Naturally, one might think as a little girl our family must have been a camping family. Not at all. In fact, if there was a time we went camping, I certainly don't remember it. In fact, with that being the case, I really don't remember how the marshmallow roasting got started in the first place with me, other than possibly at church camp.

However the memories I have of roasting these white puffs of sweetness was not from a camp fire, but instead from my grandma's own kitchen. She had a gas stove, and at our house growing up, we always had electric. So as all things were at her house, her kitchen was most special and provided sweets and entertainment. I can remember during football season, when my entire family gathered around the television to watch, no doubt, the Cowboys play.....I would sneak off to the kitchen and look in the cupboards for a bag of marshmallows.

My grandma always had a bag waiting. I never really liked to eat them right out of the bag, they had to be cooked, charred and warm for me to like them. I did not have a long wire, but always used a fork from her silverware drawer.....it worked so well.

If by chance, there were no marshmallows, I can remember looking in the refrigerator for a package of Oscar Mayer Hot Dogs. My grandma did not buy the cheap hot dogs that my husband loves so much. My grandma always had Oscar Mayer....and still to this day, those are my choice hot dogs to eat. The hot dogs fit nicely on the end of the fork, and they roasted up just fine over the gas burner in my grandma's kitchen.

My husband has heard this story over the years, and he just sits and patiently listens as I tell it again. I don't know if it is the fact that he feels sorry for a kid who never went camping with their family and had to resort to her grandma's kitchen stove as a campfire...or that fact he truly sees these are the sweetest of memories for me, and that no amount of outdoor camping could take the place these memories hold.

There is just something about grandma's and their kitchens that no other place on earth could ever replace. Funny how it took a bag of Kraft marshmallows and a campfire to take me way back to my childhood. Back to a memory of me standing in front of a brown gas stove, holding a fork of goodies over an open flame and enjoying every minute of it. ~good stuff