Clink, clink, clink
The stainless steel bowl with the rings for handles was sitting on the backseat and clanking at each little bump in the road. Today it was holding a quinoa salad for a family gathering. But that clanking noise awakened something in me.
“That’s a Thursday night sound.” I said to my daughter who was driving.
“What are you talking about mom?” she replied. At which point I proceeded to tell her about our Thursday night ritual.
Every Thursday night my dad would go out to sing with a local barbershop chorale group. And every Thursday night just as we sat down to watch the Walton’s on television my mom would disappear into the kitchen. The seven of us would look at each other in hopes we’d hear that familiar clanking coming from the cupboard – the steel rings hitting the side of the bowl. For if we heard that sound we knew the sound to follow would be the pinging of kernels hitting the bottom of the pan of oil. Then we’d listen intently for the pop, pop, pop of the corn. And if we really focused we would then hear the butter sizzling in the pan, melting down to that yellow goodness to be poured on top of hot popcorn.
Ten minutes later my mom would appear with that stainless steel bowl clanking all the way into the living room. She’d enter the room smiling and looking as if she surprised us with that yummy hot treat! We didn’t care if it was a surprise or not, we enjoyed viewing the adventures of John-boy and family much more while crunching on that yummy snack each and every week.
We arrived at the gathering with our quinoa salad in that Thursday night bowl. As I placed the clanking bowl on the table I thought back to my mom and all those Thursday night popcorn surprises this bowl had held. And as I ate that first bite of quinoa salad, I swore it tasted a little like buttered popcorn.
It’s Slice of Life Tuesday and I’m joining in the writing community over at Two Writing Teachers. Won’t you join in?