I showed my son the snack of Pepsi and peanuts on Friday. My great grandfather used to eat it, and my dad did, too. My son and I were watching my daughter at softball practice and I decided I needed one. It was just before Father’s Day, and being so far from him, Dad had been on my mind.
“So you drink some of the spicy drink – you know, the soda. The pop.” Oy – this was going to be harder than I thought. Pumpkin, my son, is only 4, and he doesn’t like pop (thank goodness) because of the carbonation, and my husband calls it soda, but my dialect is pop, so I’m pretty sure he was confused before I even opened the 20 oz bottle.
I took a swig. Then I opened an individual sleeve of honey roasted peanuts on the corner, just to make a small opening. “Then, you wrap your hand around the top and make a funnel, and slowly pour in some peanuts. See how it fizzes?”
aaahhhh, he smiles.
I hadn’t had one of those in years. I seriously couldn’t remember when, but it was sweet and working class and I felt real for a moment, again, watching my girl practice hitting ball, and watching my son run with the other kids. I felt like young me, for a moment, too. Not fretting over boring work, or whether or not the house was cleaned; not afraid of the sunshine or the soda or how much fat was in a peanut. And the taste – so familiar. Instantly I was on the creek bank with dad, watching our fishing lines. Here’s to you, Dad – Happy Father’s Day!