Thursday Thoughts: Nostalgia

Sometimes there's a small thing that brings back big memories. Cinnamon toast does it for me. 

My mom used to make cinnamon toast for me when I was a little. And she cut it into strips rather than just in half or corner to corner. The strips made it feel special. It was like 4 little toast people lined up. As I recall, she made me cinnamon toast on Saturdays or days when I wasn't feeling good. It wasn't all the time. It was special. 

When my kids got big enough to start making requests for breakfast we got into kind of a rut. One day it came to me... cinnamon toast. I don't think I'd ever made cinnamon toast for myself. My mom always made it for me. But, its just toast with butter, sugar and cinnamon. How hard could it be? 

So, I put the bread in the toaster and while I waited I mixed up the cinnamon and sugar. It took me a couple of minutes to get the ratio of cinnamon to sugar just right. When the toast popped up, I  buttered it and sprinkled the cinnamon sugar mixture on top. Then I remembered that she used to cut it into strips. And so I cut the toast in strips. And I stopped. And I remembered how I felt when she handed me a napkin with fresh, warm cinnamon toast. It was like a sweet smelling gift. It was an expression of love. A small expression of deep love. 

There's nothing inherently magical about cinnamon toast, but remembering it with such vivid clarity seemed to bring focus that morning - a focus on finding ways to show love in small ways. Making cinnamon toast and cutting it into strips is such a small thing, but it obviously made a big impact on me. 

Long live cinnamon toast. Long live the small expressions of deep love.