I was in kindergarten. We were learning our letters via goofy "letter people." That day was "G" - for Gooey Gum. The teacher gave us gum to really bring it home. It worked on me, obviously.
We were all standing in the front hallway waiting for our rides, and I had apparently slipped into gummy oblivion. It was that really yummy tangy pink gum, not the normal sugar-free crap your parents give you. But the super soft kind that was nearly gooey out of the wrapper and had a bit of zing to it even after you'd been chewing a while. I don't think they make it anymore. But it was so good.
"Tap tap!"
I come out of my gum-session and look up to see my grandpa face to face with me on the other side of the window. He waves and smiles, obviously amused that he had to reel me down to earth. He took me home.
I don't remember why that memory is still so vivid. I have so many like these. I like to think that at 5 years old, 8, 13, etc, I was aware that every little thing is precious. Every memory worth keeping in priceless.
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