Fritos and Raindrops

Tonight I was working with my daughter’s friend on a project we’ve had “in process” for six and one-half years.  We had just finished our last review when a young man she was dating showed up at the door.  He had venison in tow, and they were going to make deer chili for dinner.

I was lost in the world of placing orders on the internet when a piece of conversation rushed through the air and broke apart the mental fog covering my head.

“…well, you could have some Fritos with it, or some cheese…”

“I think I’ll have some Fritos AND some cheese…”

For some reason I can only attribute to my weariness level, I fixated on the word “Fritos.”  I thought about the fact that we have half a bag at home, closed with a rubber band, and that I should probably make some chili too.

Then I thought about a time when I was very young, and I was in a car parked in my grandpa’s pasture beside his farm pond.  We had gone there to fish, and someone – either my grandpa, or my uncle, or someone in my family – was telling me that the fishing was always better in the rain.  They had a bag of Fritos in the car and offered me some.

I felt safe in the car, learning the basics of fishing from someone whom I assumed knew it all.  Me, a family member, a bag of Fritos, and a rainy day….

I snapped out of my day dreaming and smiled.  I don’t know where that memory came from, but I needed it.  I closed my eyes and thought about the raindrops coming down onto the surface of the pond that day.

I love Fritos.

But I really, really love little memories like that one.

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