Old Memories, New Mysteries

"You shouldn't have used the stove, you could've burned down the house. How did you know how to make pancakes anyway, Marty?"

Marty shrugged. "I'm not sure, Mom. I must have seen you do it?"

Mom looked at the flour, milk, and egg carton sitting on the counter. She shook her head, and opened a high cupboard. "I've never made pancakes from scratch in my life. I use this."

Marty looked at the box with the golden brown pancake on the front. "Oh."

She laughed. "Very funny! How many times did Dad have to try before he was able to get them edible? If they are edible, that is."

Marty looked at the pattern on the tile floor. "Am I in trouble?"

Mom closed the cupboard door, and picked up the platter of pancakes. "Of course not. It was a good joke."

She walked over to the table, and set them down. Experimentally she cut a small corner off, and tasted it. "These are the best pancakes I've ever tasted! Dad just practical joked his way into making breakfast every day."

As Mom poured two glasses of orange juice, Dad shuffled in, yawning.

Mom chuckled. "You're not fooling me. You got up early, made breakfast, then snuck back to bed."

Dad ignored the comment, and made his way to the coffee maker.

"Is this the first time you ever made pancakes from scratch?" Mom asked curiously as they ate breakfast.

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you make breakfast?"

She laughed. "The gig's up. I already figured out what you and Marty were up to."

Dad looked at Marty.

Marty blushed. "I wanted to surprise Mom by making pancakes. She thinks you did it."

Dad shook his head. "I couldn't boil water without burning it."

Mom nodded. "That's why it's such a good joke. I can't figure out how you did it."

Still yawning every so often, Dad dropped the subject.

That evening, Mom sat next to Dad after she turned off the TV. "Are you going to make breakfast again tomorrow? You're really good at it."

Dad frowned. "I didn't make breakfast. I never have, unless you count pouring cereal."

She shook her head. "You don't really expect me to believe that Marty made those pancakes? He's seven!"

He sighed. "I don't know how he did it. But I do know I wasn't involved in any way. He's known other stuff I can't explain too."

Mom leaned forward. "Like what?"

Dad shook his head. "Nothing big, but it's still strange. Like how he mentioned cropdusters when we looked through a book of vintage planes. There wasn't anything about that in there, and I don't think he'd seen anything about them. Same thing with plowhorses. And he knew about grasshoppers eating up crops too."

Mom nodded. "I've heard of children who seem to know a lot about the past. Some people say they've lived before."

Dad picked up a newspaper. "I've never believed in reincarnation. I believe that you only live once."

"Then how do you explain it?" Mom asked.

Dad opened the paper, hiding his face. "I didn't know I had to explain it."

A few weeks later, Dad walked into the living room with a huge smile on his face. "You'll never guess who's coming for a visit."

Marty jumped to his feet. "Grandpa!"

Dad nodded. "Right! I can't believe it, after being overseas for four years he's finally coming back."

Marty grinned. "When will he be here?"

Dad looked at the clock on the wall. "In about fifteen hours."

The next day, Grandpa walked through the door. Dad followed and set down two suitcases. "Marty! Grandpa is here, come say hello."

Marty raced into the room, and Grandpa opened his arms for a hug. "Marty, you've grown so much. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I remember you, Grandpa. We talk on video chat all the time."

Grandpa shook his head. "No, I mean do you remember me being here?"

Marty scrunched his face. "No. But of course I know you," he insisted.

Grandpa smiled. "I know. But it's high time that I was here so we can make more memories."

"I'll take your luggage to the guest room," offered Dad.

Grandpa looked at the small pile. "Thank you. Can you please take the big hardback book out of the duffle bag first?"

Dad unzipped the bag. He removed a big, leather bound book. It had no title.

Grandpa accepted the book. "Surely you remember this, Marty?"

Marty shook his head.

"It's my autobiography. I started it about the time you were born. And I finished it a few weeks ago! That's actually why I came home, I wanted to read the whole thing to you. I used to read aloud what I wrote, when you were little. You probably don't remember any of it, though."

Grandpa, Marty, Mom, and Dad settled in the living room.

"Grandpa, will you please start at the beginning? I still can't remember any of it."

Grandpa smiled, and opened the book. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

As he read, Mom and Dad's eyes widened. When he recited how his grandmother used to make pancakes from scratch they looked at each other, and laughed.

Dad shook his head, grinning at Mom. "I knew there had to be a logical explanation! I told you we only live once."

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Cover image made in Canva Pro using their AI in Canva Magic