Summer Tomatoes on the Windowsill

A good portion of my life, I have been told that I’m an “old soul born a few decades too late.” I enjoyed being a child of the 80’s and 90’s. I was a Cabbage Patch crazed kid, watched Full House and imitated Steve Urkel, but whenever we would visit my grandparents in North Alabama, I would become the little girl who longed to have grown up in my mom’s place…or even a couple of decades before then.

My grandparents lived in a historic district (and my grandfather still resides in that home) in a turn of the century home that they completely gutted and restored with their own two hands. To a child, an old home with 6 fireplaces, a secret passage to the basement and closets of treasures was pure enchantment. Both of my grandparents grew up poor, so most of their belongings were those in which they worked hard to buy…including their home. My cousins, sister and I would always be on the snoop in the closets to find fun things to entertain us. Though all those discoveries were amusing, one of the things that I always will remember about my grandparents is the everyday things in life they did.

I have recently discovered the influence these wonderful people in my life. They have crept into my home life slowly without realizing. It’s not the way I fold my laundry, or the meals I cook, (but I do those too) but rather the smaller things that sometimes are un-noticed. My grandmother ALWAYS had a bottle of Windex for cleaning and Ivory soap to wash her dishes with. Please, someone report me to her in Heaven if I they are ever absent in my home!

Possibly one the most notorious actions I take was kindly pointed out to me by Chase the other night. On recent trips to Athens, my grandfather has sent me home a dozen or so tomatoes from his garden....as he has done for 26 years. Rather than placing them in my vegetable basket when we get home, I line them up along my kitchen window sill. Chase asked me the other day why I always do that. My Poppy would tell you it’s to help ripen them for better eating, but I do it because that’s what Poppy does.

I’m sentimental and nostalgic, I know this all too well, but it truly does amaze me all the family traditions that are handed down through the years. Some more prevalent than others, but none the less, they are a part of your own special threadwork. Be proud of who you are and where you came from. It’s your richest possession.