I am absolutely fascinated by how the brain – my brain – works. By how one tiniest little thing can trigger memories that are so vivid and strong. Memories that seem so minute and even trivial can be conjured up by the smallest thought about something else.
This morning I was going through my normal Saturday morning routine. I had journaled and completed my devotional and was moving on to my first task of the day – meal planning and groceries. It’s something I do every Saturday morning. Since I have conferences this week, Chris is going to cook two nights this week. Thankfully he’s cooking a meal he and the girls love – and I won’t be home to eat it, because honestly I hate it. He lists all the ingredients he needs for his Swedish meatballs and I add them to my list. While ordering all of my groceries I came to one of his items – French Onion Soup. The instant I typed those words into my Kroger search bar, I was flooded with a memory from my childhood. A fond memory (that had nothing to do with Swedish meatballs!) I was transported back to my parents kitchen. My sister and I were sitting at the table and my daddy was doing the cooking. I could smell the goodness coming from the stove where he worked. When he turned around to bring the food to the table, we were so excited. Daddy had made French Onion soup – like the real deal – in individual crocks for us. The cheese on top was slightly browned and bubbling. As we dug into it we came to the next layer – the crusty bread – that was hiding in a rich, onion-filled broth. It was the first time I had ever had French Onion soup and I have loved it ever since. I can still see those brown crocks that held our soup. I can still feel the slight sting of the hot cheese as it strung from my bowl, over my spoon and messily landing on my chin. This dinner was not a special occasion dinner. It was just a random weeknight when, for some reason, my daddy was cooking. There was nothing memorable about this date on the calendar.
I have not thought about that meal made by my daddy in a very long time. But the simple act of ordering a can of soup today brought that dinner to my mind in an instant. And I’m so thankful it did. I don’t know why that meal, those moments have stuck with me, and why they came back in a rush today. Perhaps that is, for some reason, a core memory that I have held onto. I’m just in awe of how the brain stores memories and then releases them when a hint of them comes to mind. Because today, that memory turned a mundane task that often I gripe about into a few quiet moments to soak in a happy moment from my childhood. Totally unexpected, but so so appreciated.
Edit to add: I understand that “core memories” are not rooted in science, and that the term actually became popular from a Pixar movie. However, I do think that for some reason, this particular memory held some sort of special emotional value to me for it to re-surface in the way that it did. With such vividness and clarity. With so much emotion attached to it. So, yeah, Pixar or not, science or not, for me this was a core memory.
Julie Anne Taylor 