Remembering Gram

I have just brought out a piece of gum and the sound of the wrapper and the smell brought back a memory. Most especially the smell. Smells can be tied rather strongly to memories, this time I smelled Wrigley’s gum and remembered my Grandmother. My Grandmother and her road-trip worthy van. She always had a stick of Wrigley’s, if fact she had fossilised remains of half sticks in the mysterious darkness at the bottom of her purse. I don’t know why she always had gum, it might have been the way she was raised, you know, it’s rude to have bad breath. She would always have a piece for us grandkids, well half a piece, the other half to be consigned to the bottom of the purse to be turned into rock wafers. I remember the van too, always we would be in the van going… somewhere. Us kids didn’t always know where but we could always be assured of half sticks of Wrigley’s on the way.
Well thats my scent memory, now I’ll return to chewing my gum.

Miss you Gram.