Mom’s Bowl

Looking for something to toss a salad in, I pulled the middle Corningware mixing bowl from a set in the cabinet. The set belonged to my mother.

Later, I washed the bowl and turned it up in the dish rack.

The sadness hits at the oddest moments and for the most unexpected reasons. This time, it was seeing the piece of masking tape bearing Mom’s name, written years ago when she still cooked and took things to potlucks, and her handwriting was firm and just a little bit jaunty.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

About Jan C. Johnson

Welcome! If you like food, reading, laughing over life's little disasters, and maybe thinking about the bigger things of life, you have come to the right place. Besides blogging, I write humorous fiction, though real life tends to leave fictional humor in the shade. But I'm not a total goofball. No, really. I'm also working on a biography project. I live in North Texas with my husband, Brent. We enjoy bicycling, Mexican food, and traveling to visit our kids and grandkids.
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2 Responses to Mom’s Bowl

  1. Ohhhhh so bittersweet my friend.

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