The warm spicy smell of Christmas goodies fill the cozy kitchen as I, now the grown up mommy,
prepare the treats in my home as my mother and grandmother did in the happy place where I
spent my childhood. It is as if I am a link in a loving chain of motherhood. Passing on to my children the wonderful holiday traditions so cherished in my family.
As I work, if you can call it work, for this is different than everyday kitchen chores, I use my
favorite spoon. It is a big sturdy silver plated spoon, very old, with the silver plating worn off on many spots. It had belonged to my husband’s mother who died when he was a young boy.
He always refers to it as “my mother’s spoon”.
My mind fleets for a moment wondering what it must have been like for him losing her like that.
I was grown when my mom died, but losing her was the most painful experience of my life.
I think of how my kids would react if I were to leave them so unexpectedly. They depend on me so much.
Tears well up in my eyes making it hard to see the recipe book. Enough of these sad thoughts.
This is supposed to be a festive time. Whenever I use this spoon I feel so close to the mother-in-law I never met. I wonder if she ever thought about what kind of woman her precious little boy would marry. I wonder if I would meet with her approval.
We are not alike in a physical sense, as she was small and dark and I am large and fair, but her
internal makeup must have been like mine because of our shared love for her son.
I am sorry that she was not able to see what a fine man he has grown up to be. She would be so
proud of him. He is strong yet gentle and so handsome.
My mother and grandmother lived to see their grandchildren and get to know them. I have two
of my own whom I cherish. Whenever I hold this spoon that she used in her kitchen so long ago, I feel very close to her. It is like I am holding her hand and telling her not to worry , that I will take care of her son. I will try my best to make him happy as she would have wanted him to be.
I wonder for a minute , who, if anyone, will use this spoon to make loving christmas goodies
when I am gone. And perhaps feel the feelings I am feeling.
My question is answered. The front door bangs open loudly, interrupting my thoughts, as two little dark haired girls come dashing into the kitchen calling “ Grandma! Grandma!” ©
By Valerie X Armstrong
prepare the treats in my home as my mother and grandmother did in the happy place where I
spent my childhood. It is as if I am a link in a loving chain of motherhood. Passing on to my children the wonderful holiday traditions so cherished in my family.
As I work, if you can call it work, for this is different than everyday kitchen chores, I use my
favorite spoon. It is a big sturdy silver plated spoon, very old, with the silver plating worn off on many spots. It had belonged to my husband’s mother who died when he was a young boy.
He always refers to it as “my mother’s spoon”.
My mind fleets for a moment wondering what it must have been like for him losing her like that.
I was grown when my mom died, but losing her was the most painful experience of my life.
I think of how my kids would react if I were to leave them so unexpectedly. They depend on me so much.
Tears well up in my eyes making it hard to see the recipe book. Enough of these sad thoughts.
This is supposed to be a festive time. Whenever I use this spoon I feel so close to the mother-in-law I never met. I wonder if she ever thought about what kind of woman her precious little boy would marry. I wonder if I would meet with her approval.
We are not alike in a physical sense, as she was small and dark and I am large and fair, but her
internal makeup must have been like mine because of our shared love for her son.
I am sorry that she was not able to see what a fine man he has grown up to be. She would be so
proud of him. He is strong yet gentle and so handsome.
My mother and grandmother lived to see their grandchildren and get to know them. I have two
of my own whom I cherish. Whenever I hold this spoon that she used in her kitchen so long ago, I feel very close to her. It is like I am holding her hand and telling her not to worry , that I will take care of her son. I will try my best to make him happy as she would have wanted him to be.
I wonder for a minute , who, if anyone, will use this spoon to make loving christmas goodies
when I am gone. And perhaps feel the feelings I am feeling.
My question is answered. The front door bangs open loudly, interrupting my thoughts, as two little dark haired girls come dashing into the kitchen calling “ Grandma! Grandma!” ©
By Valerie X Armstrong
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