Today at work I got a jolly rancher. As I was fingering it's plastic wrapper I had this memory of my Grandparents, and my Grandpa in particular. My Grandpa has always been the candy man at church. All the kids know to check his pockets and they're sure to find a tootsie roll or jolly rancher. Even when I was older, I'd spot my Grandpa in the hallway after church. He'd be there with his white hair,wearing a suit (but you could spot his staple suspenders underneath-he's a farmer, he can't go ANYWHERE without wearing suspenders). He'd give me a smile and say, "Here you go, Katie" and hand me some sort of treat.
At my Grandparents' house there was an old candy jar in the kitchen full of jolly ranchers. Just walking into that kitchen is like a blast from the past. There's no dishwasher because they always refused to get one, they keep a bin by the sink to collect food scraps for compost because there's no disposal, and the colors are dated...I LOVE THAT KITCHEN. I remember canning there with my Grandma the summer before she died (I found out more stake gossip than I ever knew existed that summer), I remember making cookies there with my cousins, and I remember a bizillion sweltering, summer Sundays (they don't believe in air-conditioning either) when we ate roast that was made in that oven. But today, I remembered the candy jar...and how I used to dig through it to pick out only the watermelon candies. Today, when I chose my jolly rancher, it was watermelon...Isn't it strange how a little candy in a wrapper can remind you of so much?