 |
Six of our 7 kids have moved out of the house. They are either at university or out in the world. We are SO proud of them. But miss them terribly.
Well, we haven't given them a key to The Small Cottage, so there's that.
We moved because of my health. Stairs are difficult. A big house is difficult. I couldn't keep up.
So, the move is sad because I no longer hear all the chatter from the kids (the one kid left doesn't make much chatter), and the move is sad because my health couldn't take living in a 3800 sq. foot house any more.
We're feeling settled in. Familiar pictures are up; furniture is arranged; "stuff" is out where it's supposed to be.
My stacking doll collection is arranged on the shelf. My card collection is in it's place.
I thought, "Hey, we're moved in."Then I walked into the kitchen and saw my bananas.
I have a killer banana bread recipe. I've been using it since 1994.
Where is it? I start to literally panic. It lives in my special recipe book. But I don't know where it is. So much sadness. I will have to throw the bananas away. I will not use another recipe. Only mine.
Ugh. My dramatic panic starts.
Then Child #5 walks in (today's her birthday, by the way, she turns 20).
"I know where the recipe book is."No way no way no way no way!
And sure enough, she went to her room (where all the unpacked boxes live), and came back with my magic recipe book.
It was all there. All of it. All the clippings. The one's from my mom, who died years ago. The ones from my dear friends.
Like Grandma Janet's banana bread.
So, we're going to make banana bread today.
But the best feeling was walking into the kitchen this morning and seeing that book on the counter. It felt so good.
It feels like I'm home.
No comments:
Post a Comment