Looking for something to toss a salad in, I pulled the middle Corningware mixing bowl from a set in the cabinet. The set belonged to my mother.
Later, I washed the bowl and turned it up in the dish rack.
The sadness hits at the oddest moments and for the most unexpected reasons. This time, it was seeing the piece of masking tape bearing Mom’s name, written years ago when she still cooked and took things to potlucks, and her handwriting was firm and just a little bit jaunty.
Thanks for reading,
Jan
Want to pass it on? Share:
Related
About Jan C. Johnson
Welcome! If you like food, reading, laughing over life's little disasters, and maybe thinking about the bigger things of life, you have come to the right place. Besides blogging, I write humorous fiction, though real life tends to leave fictional humor in the shade. But I'm not a total goofball.
No, really. I've also written a most riveting memoir--not mine, which would be boring, but rather the life story of an obscure pastor in Liberia, West Africa. His hair-raising memories of the Liberian Civil War years make for some suspenseful reading! Discover more under the "My Books" tab.
I live in North Texas with my husband, Brent. We enjoy bicycling, Mexican food, and traveling to visit our kids and grandkids.
Jan C Johnson, Author 
Ohhhhh so bittersweet my friend.
LikeLike
I knew you’d understand, Jody. Thank you for stopping by.. and for your friendship.
LikeLike