Déjà Vu

The other night, I happened to notice this Christmas decoration in the lobby of my apartment building. It’s a very impressive gingerbread house:

When I saw that, I instantly felt a little thrill. Something very specific in the core of my memory caused me to get excited over this gingerbread house. I just wanted to remain there and stare at it. (And I did.) It was an uncanny case of déjà vu. 

Then, I realized why I was responding to this gingerbread house so strongly and it made me smile. 

I was four years old and we were visiting my paternal grandparents and great-grandmother, Granny, Poppy, and Big-Mama. Granny had fashioned this incredible castle-cake and I was completely fascinated with it. It was made of cake, of course, but made to look like a castle with cookies, gum drops, ice cream cones, wafers, and peppermints. It was one of the most creative things you’d ever seen. 

Here I am in Big-Mama’s back yard, transfixed by the castle cake. My younger brother, toddling away, obviously having found something else that interested him. 

Even though I was barely four years old – if that much – I can still remember every detail of that castle cake and the exact feeling I had that memorable day so long ago. 

The other night, I was probably standing and staring at the gingerbread house in the lobby of my high-rise in exactly the same pose as I did forty-eight years earlier.