Oh, nostalgia

This morning the coffee I was drinking tasted the way my grandmother's house used to smell. If you've never tasted something that reminded you of the way something smells, then I'm sure that won't make any sense.

Several tastes and smells remind me of my grandmother's house.. the way it used to be, anyway. Every time I smell cinnamon, specifically cinnamon waffles, it reminds me of her house. I used to go over in the morning to help her out for the day-- do her laundry, help clean around the house, make her lunch, etc. And when I'd show up at 7 or 8 a.m., the kitchen was always filled with this scent of coffee and waffles. And now every time I smell those things, I think of her/her house.

Just a week or so ago, I went to her house. My oldest brother lives there with my grandfather. Things are so different. It doesn't smell the way it used to, it doesn't look the way it used to, and it doesn't feel the way it used to. But, although she's been gone for 5 years now, I can't call it anything but my grandma's house, no matter how many changes it goes through or who resides within it's walls.