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Dear Control: You Have Never Really Belonged To Me
It is possible that the experiences of the past several years of my life have been occurring primarily to lead me to one conclusion – to point me to one truth. I’m not in control. (I don’t think I ever really thought I was. But I have been infatuated with pretending as if I was.) It’s like this is the conversation that has been happening above, around, near me for a few years . . . You like the way your parents make you feel secure? You have a growing reliance on your mom and her role in your life? Got that all figured out – how that should look…
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Lunch
I found myself staring at my plate during lunch today. The sight of my meal triggered some memory in me. It wasn’t an exciting meal, but it was a very familiar one. I had a scoop of this macaroni-tuna-egg-salad-type-thing and two slices of banana bread spread with cream cheese. Don’t worry, it doesn’t offend me if that sounds unappetizing to you. I know. It’s kind of a weird meal. I have no name for the type-thing I was eating. I just know it was this concoction that my mom brought out frequently during the summer growing up on our family’s dairy farm. I think maybe she made it up. She…
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This Bowl
Growing up, every spring for longer than I can possibly remember, my mother made strawberry jam. It was delicious. We never had Smuckers at our house, we only had homemade strawberry jam. I am not entirely domestic, but the strawberry jam tradition has been one I really wanted to continue. Now, every spring I find myself picking strawberries and making oodles of batches of what my husband refers to as “red gold”. I don’t buy Smuckers for this house either – I prefer the fresh strawberry goodness. Here’s the funny thing. Many years ago my mother gave me the particular bowl in which she always prepared her strawberry jam. (Which…
