This one will be short. I have a dear friend Brittania and interestingly enough her memory foo for her dad is popcorn. I asked her about different kinds. Is he into kettlecorn? Stove popped? Air popped? Carmel Corn? It had to be anything but microwave. To my surprise I was wrong. That microwave popcorn was exactly what she was referring to.
Brittania remembers sitting with her dad and a shared bag of popcorn slowly opened, the steam rising from the top. Whenever she eats popcorn now she can’t help but think of her father. The man who gave her her last name, her eye color, her sense of humor, and half of her genetics.
Small and simple things.