visits and memories

I suppose I'm at the age where memories come flooding in with the slightest nudge-

Built in book shelves line one wall of the dining room at Brett and Rachel's house in Ohio. Wouldn't you know that my eyes and interest would drift over there. I found my old copy of the La Leche League Cook Book, published first in 1971.  Rachel was born a few years later and that's when I got that book, so eager to do the most natural, most healthy thing for my yet unborn babe. I flipped through the pages,  Did I really cook this? I think I first tried my hand at yeast bread with one of those recipes. I told Rachel that I'm not attached to the book memory-really, she can pass it on without any emotional hiccup from me.  I read aloud the titles of at least 8 recipes for cooking liver--40 years ago, I was starting out the motherhood journey- they said that liver was the very best food for expectant moms--I haven't eaten it since.

I remember the time my mom came to visit us in Texas and she insisted that I needed a paper shredder; I didn't really think so- but she insisted and gave John money to buy one. That trusty machine shredded a ton of paper over the years.
So- I visit my grown children and I'm like my mom, usually it has to do with kitchen stuff. . ."Ahh, she needs new measuring cups. . .or new wooden spoons. . .or her Italian coffee pot lost its handle, she needs a new one of those!" It's funny- in my mind I sound like my mom and maybe I understand her and her love for me a bit better.