We all have childhood memories triggered by certain smells from a kitchen or the sight of a dish we haven’t seen in a long time. I am no exception. I love the smell of roasted chestnuts or freshly baked apple pie like everybody else. But in my case, it’s much simpler. There is no smell, no sight of cake, torte, or roast that transports me back to my childhood as quickly as a jar of chocolate spread.
How could a simple question throw me into such a turmoil? “What did you have for breakfast?” my husband wanted to know and my brain went totally blank. “Did I have breakfast?” Yes, I am sure I did, probably a green smoothie or maybe a gluten-free toast with a slice of Italian prosciutto, the cheap brand from Aldi’s.
But I couldn’t remember. As hard as I tried, nothing came up.
‘How do you want your eggs?’ the waitress asked.
It was our weekly routine. She asked, and I didn’t know what to say.