This afternoon both kids were sleeping and I decided to make some pastry for pies to have in the freezer and so that I could make some quick quiche dinners in the coming weeks. I pulled out the tools I always use and during the process noticed a pattern. I always use exactly the same tools each time. The same mixing bowl. The same wooden spoon. The same measuring cup. The same pastry cutter. I have other bowls and spoons, but these are the ones I use to make pastry.
And what was the pattern? The bowl was my mum's. The pastry cutter was her mum's. She gave me the spoon. The measuring cup and rolling pin were hers. And the butcher block island that I work on every day is the same one that she worked on every day and which was a wedding present to her and my dad.
She's not so far away.
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3 comments:
lovely. I think the same thing when I hear myself giving Fred my father's admonitions to me and my sisters, with the same feigned seriousness. "This is a delicate instrument - it is not a toy" came up yesterday.xx
That's possibly one of the sweetest things I've read in a long, long, long time.
Very important awareness Beth, and VERY beautifully said. I'm SO thankful your memory of her is so alive and daily holds so many little joys. VERY DEAR.
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