A Spoon Full of Love
One simple way to stir memories.
I searched throughout the kitchen, it wasn’t there. My heart pounded, sweat began to bead across my brow, my breathing quickened. Panic was inevitable. Where is it? It has to be here.
The well-loved ladle, unpolished and oxidizing, always felt comfortable in hand. Family stories suspected the ancient large spoon may have been at one time a gravy ladle. A lost utensil from a highly polished expensive silver service set. How or when it became a sole utensil, separated forever from its sparkling brethren is unknown. Memories shared regarding its existence date back to the 1940s in my grandmother’s kitchen.
My grandmother used it an uncountable number of times in her kitchen, from a simple serving spoon to a jam-jelly, canning, baking, soups, and/or cooking utensil. And so it continued in the same light, throughout my mother’s kitchen.
Upon the deaths of my parents in the late 1990s, there came the necessary uncomfortable weekend to address their house and belongings. All my brothers, sisters, and I meandered through our parent’s belongings, each of us selecting various items of personal parental memorabilia…
