The snow is melting, temperatures are regulating, something in my house needs repair – things are starting to get back to normal.
While I didn’t really care for being snowed in and cooped up, one thing I have enjoyed during the past couple of weeks is spending time in the kitchen with Kelsey. We’ve had a lot of fun baking and hanging out.
The other thing I love about being in the kitchen is how it makes me feel connected to my great-grandmother.
Granny spent a lot of time in the kitchen. She was an excellent cook – her skills honed by years caring for her family and feeding farm hands. It was nothing for her to whip up a lunch of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. She canned every sort of fruit and vegetable and, as if that wasn’t enough, she made the most delicious breads, cakes, and pies.
Some of my fondest childhood memories are of being with Granny in her kitchen. I can vividly recall, being maybe only 4 or 5, sitting on the countertop next to her while she made pancakes for my little brother and me. We would eat them like there was no tomorrow with tons of butter and dark Karo syrup. Sometimes she would put a chair up to the sink and let me help her do the dishes. My favorite thing, though, was just sitting in her lap. She and my mom would sit at her kitchen table drinking coffee and talking. Granny would rock back and forth in her chair and I just remember feeling so safe and so loved.
I loved her so much.
I think of Granny often, but especially when I’m in the kitchen. She died when I was 17 and although I knew some of the details of her life, I’ve only recently come to learn what a truly remarkable and courageous woman she was. So now whenever I start feeling the tiniest bit sorry for myself, I think of her and the tragedy and hardship she endured… and it just kinda puts everything into perspective.
And it also makes me so proud and so grateful for the legacy that she passed down. Something I hope to pass on to my daughter.