Do you ever have those moments – not exactly déjà vu, but close – when you flash back to a memory from childhood? Every time I fix fresh green beans, it takes me back to summers at our family’s beach house when it would be my job, along with my grandfather’s help, to snap the ends off the beans for dinner. That and shucking corn. But the beans are what makes me think of Granddaddy.
I can picture us sitting on a sofa, the pot for the beans and a bowl for the ends sitting on the coffee table in front of us. In my memory, I see us snapping and tossing, snapping and tossing. Sometimes I would toss the bean in the bowl and the ends in the pot. But Granddaddy never got mad. He would just fish out the ends, I would get the bean, and we would put them where they belonged.
Granddaddy died when I was 11. He died in August, so this time of year, he is especially on my mind. So when I fixed green beans for dinner tonight, I sent a mental hug out into the universe, thanking him for teaching me the best method for snapping green beans.