Grape Juice With My Nana

Whether it’s artificial or the real scent, the smell of grapes brings me back to my childhood with my Nana. 

Every scorching summer when I was younger, my older brother and I would spend our time at my Nana’s home, which was only about two minutes down the road from ours, while our mom was at work. Usually, these days consisted of swimming in her pool, playing outside, or lying on the floor of her air-conditioned house because it was too hot outside. 

Our summer days were usually pretty similar in what activities we participated in, but like clockwork, around early August time, before we went back to school, the grape vines across the road from my Nana’s home were finally ripe. 

Each and every year, the three of us would ponder our way over to the grape vines and pick the grapes until our hands were sore. When we were done, we would lug about five or six buckets filled to the brim with these ripened grapes. We would have to wash each of the buckets of grapes to get all the dirt off before we were finally able to make the immaculate juice we curated each year. 

For this process, we would have to boil the pounds of grapes with loads of sugar for hours on end. This was always my least favorite part. We would have to slave over the large industrial pot, stirring every couple of minutes to make sure the grapes didn’t stick to the bottom. The best part of this process was that the entire house reeked of fresh and sweet grapes. 

When my brother and I would go outside to play during our stirring break, we would walk back into the house and get smacked in the face with the amazing smell of grapes. 

After hours of boiling, the grapes were finally ready. We would then strain all of the juices from the grapes into dozens of large mason jars to cool off. 

By the time my mom would get to my Nana’s house to bring us back home, the juice was finally cool enough to drink. The mason jars, full of juice, would last us for a couple of months until the holiday season. 

The scent of grape juice always brings me back to the summer days with my brother and my Nana. The pain of nostalgia hits me each time I smell grapes and brings back all of my memories.

I would do anything to go back to this time. I hope to bring back this summer tradition one day with my Nana. I miss the delicious taste of homemade grape juice. 

• #childhood
• #life
• #memories
• #nostalgia