Frosted Flakes

(Stay with me here...I have been writing in my journal but not posting for some time - I wasn't really this industrious today.)

I had a bowl of Frosted Flakes this morning, which in and of itself is nothing particularly extraordinary. In fact, truth be told, my adult self doesn't really even like them very much. But they remind me so much of my childhood, which is beginning to seem to very long ago and far away.

I used to spend a great deal of time with my grandparents over the summer in Cape Cod. Every morning for breakfast my grandfather would eat a bowl of Frosted Flakes, an English muffin, a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee (that I remember anyway). I really don't know if he ever ate anything else.

I know that over the years it too became my ritual, only switch the cup of coffee for milk. I was never allowed cereal like Frosted Flakes at home, so it was a very special treat - just like visiting my grandparents'.

And oh how I loved and adored my grandpa! He was hands down my idol and my knight in shining armor.

He taught me how to play 500 Rummy, which I know is nothing particularly special, but we would play for hours. He taught me strategy, and how to lose gracefully (I never could beat him). But it was during those simple games of rummy that we really bonded. He told me stories about my mom and uncle, about life during the Great Depression, and the wars he had lived through, what was in the news, and even how to play golf.

If we weren't playing rummy, we were most likely to be found at the beach. We would leave in the morning after our highly nutritious bowls of the afore mentioned Frosted Flakes, break shortly for lunch, and return every afternoon.

He never minded the long hours at the beach - because he would set his blanket down next to the most beautiful bikini clad college girls. They all just adored him, after all, he was charming.

But he would always come in the water with me, encouraging me to be a fearless swimmer. And then we'd walk the beach - I'd collect shells and he'd talk to the fisherman. We'd watch the endless parade of boats.

By late afternoon we always returned covered in sand. But after dinner were the hours I loved best, just listening to all the grown-ups play "Oh, Hell." Even listening to their voices quietly carry from the living room to the family room where I slept on the pull out sofa, hearing the clock my Uncle Ron had given them for their anniversary chime.

I guess what I cherish most about my time on the Cape, other than the incredible relationships I had with my grandparents, is the fact that the Cape was the only place my parents were really together and getting along. I could always find a peace there that eluded me the rest of my childhood.

And so this morning, my simple bowl of Frosted Flakes took me on a glorious trip down memory lane, with my grandpa so close I could almost see his sparkling blue eyes.

I look forward to another bowl tomorrow!