Growing up my sister and I spent time each summer with my Grandma and Grandpa on the farm. We loved to go to the barn with Grandpa and feed the cats each evening. We loved helping to pick veggies and berries in the garden every day. But, most of all . . . we loved to help Grandma in the kitchen. She made everything from scratch and everything was so good!
Looking back, I remember Grandma's hands. Yes, they were wrinkled, but her hands were always busy and I thought they were cute. I wanted nothing more than to be able to cook like Grandma. Today, I look at my own hands and I see hers. They aren't young anymore. They are wrinkled (I call them love lines) and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Feeding my family and friends gives me the greatest pleasure in life. My kitchen and dining room are the place we always wind up. Three-year-old Christian loves to help me in the kitchen already. I can only hope that when my grandchildren are all grown up they will look back and think about Grammy's wrinkled hands and the goodies I made for them and the dishes we made together. Is there any better legacy? I don't think so.
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