In my college writing class this semester, I was asked to write a description paper on something from my childhood. Instantly, my mind went to my grandma's garage. While I took a little bit of artistic liberty here because I couldn't remember the exact location of everything in there, it's a pretty accurate description of one of my favorite places. Hopefully, this story will give you a little glimpse into some of my childhood, pickled okra and all.

The ring of the musical doorbell chime signaled my favorite part of the day at Grandma’s house. My mom had just arrived to pick me up, and before I left, Grandma insisted I take a can of food from her garage home with me. I would run and slide across the wooden laminate floor like a figure skater, stopping just short of the door frame. I was about to enter a treasure chest held up by four walls. Next, I had to carefully make my way down the two steps crafted from unfinished two-by-fours. Once the cool concrete under my toes greeted me, I knew I’d arrived.

Off the right side of the railing was Grandma’s favorite past-time: laundry. In fact, the smell of Tide laundry soap enveloped the entire room. The cherry red GE washer and dryer sat side-by-side, churning away. Two baskets, one plastic, the other wicker, wait patiently in front of the round doors to be filled with freshly cleaned items. Those machines hummed away at all hours of the day. I was convinced Grandma washed the entire neighborhood’s laundry for them.

On the left side were the two “lockers.” Inside the first frozen chest were my favorite goodies: Klondike bars, Eddy’s Moose Tracks ice cream, Grandma’s signature frozen strawberries and any other sweets related to chocolate and sugar. The second upright box held more practical items like Smithfield’s sausages, Carolina Packer hot dogs, spicy pulled-pork barbecue made by Poppy Steve and frozen seafood. These two freezers were kept at maximum capacity. It was dangerous to remove anything from the icy shelves because everything inside could come crashing out instantly. They were prepared to face a worldwide famine twice and still have food to spare.

On the east side wall, Poppy Steve built a huge wooden workbench to hold all his fishing gear. Everything a fisherman would ever need could be found on this bench: overflowing tackle boxes, multi-colored heavy duty fishing line, firetruck red bobbers, and unique lures. We could go to the beach in a moment’s notice. In addition to his fishing gear, Papa kept empty soda cans in two black trash bins. My grandparents were addicted to Sam’s diet cola, and Papa crafted a special can crusher so they could easily crush and recycle the cans. Whenever I was angry or frustrated, I would go back there and crush some of those sticky golden cans. It was actually quite fun.

Right in the middle of the garage were the shelves that held canned and dry goods. This was my destination before leaving Grandma’s house. The two metal frames each holding four shelves were stacked high with all their food finds from the flea market. While most of the goods were outdated, Grandma was convinced they would never go bad. Searching through the cans was like a daily treasure hunt because everything was mixed together. Progresso chicken noodle soup, Heinz ketchup, and honey barbecue sauce, as well as pickled okra, were some of the most popular items on the shelves. Each day I came to this area of the garage, I had one thing in mind: finding my favorite treat. I looked for one specific jar that was clear and cylindrical with a purple lid. Inside were perfectly pickled okra. Flavored of garlic and special spices with a tang of vinegar, they were delicious.

To most people this garage looks overwhelming because of the amount of stuff it contains. However, to me, it symbolized my grandparents’ love for me. They were not the richest people, but they kept my favorites tucked away so I could enjoy them. Sometimes, on a humid day, I sat on the porch and enjoyed a bowl of frozen strawberries with my grandpa. Other times, I ate a bowl of ice cream with Grandma while watching the local news. Because of those items in the garage, I left with a can in hand every day and memories that I will treasure forever.