Thursday, June 2, 2011

Crisp Toast

On Sundays after church my family would head to Pawpaw and Grammy's house for a delicious Sunday lunch. Grammy typically had lots of little "warm ups" available: chips,sometimes cashews, and crisp toast. My favorite, obviously, was the crisp toast. I do recall though that the crisp toast was what all of us went for as our Sunday lunch "warm up" staple.

Crisp toast was the buttered toast from that morning's breakfast, re-toasted in the oven or toaster. Oh my good is so good. I had forgotten about crisp toast until last night when Mr. Ski and I were eating dinner.

We had leftover thin crust pizza and since I despise pizza heated in the microwave (hello, soggy) I had put the remaining slices in the oven to re-heat. As I finished my slice I began to crunch away at the crust, extra crispy from the re-baking, when a memory from those Sunday lunch "warm ups" slammed into me.

This crust tastes almost like crisp toast, my eyes began to water as I recalled coming in the side door (with it's inevitable creak) at Pawpaw and Grammy's, giving Grammy a hug and a kiss, leaning over Pawpaw's chair to give him a hug and a kiss and then retreating to a back bedroom to change out of my church clothes. Almost as soon as I was done changing I'd race to the counter beside the stove to see if there were any pieces of crisp toast on the little breakfast plate, rarely disappointed by no crisp toast I would take my piece into the living room (because you could eat in the living room at their house :) and sit on the little couch closest to Pawpaw's chair. He and I would read books or try and figure out that week's Magic Eye picture or sometimes we'd watch a Shirley Temple movie; regardless of what we did I never felt like he was just 'entertaining' me, I always felt like he enjoyed that time with me as much as I did.

After reliving that scene I was am in tears. How crazy is it that all of this was brought about by a leftover pizza crust?!

Pawpaw passed away in December of 2004 and it's still hard for me to sit in 'his' chair. I still always end up choosing the spot on the little couch closest to his chair. And every time I'm in town I always look for crisp toast on the counter before Sunday lunch.

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