The Nostalgia of Things
I have a crock pot given to me by a very dear friend, one of my favorite people and families in fact. It has a hand made label for the heat control and a rubber seal that is only half attached to the glass the lid. When I lift it up it just sort of dangles. Only one of the clasps that would hold the lid in place for transporting it work. But I’ve been happy to use it because it still works and mostly because it reminds me of Veronica. The label written in her handwriting, the many meals she’s cooked for her lovely family within.
Out shopping for something else entirely over the weekend we came across a new crock pot, a little bigger, solid rubber seals and hooks to hold it’s contents safely. I came home and washed it with the intention of putting a roast in it over night. When my husband came home he noticed a dent on the side where the exterior façade was pulling away and realized we need to replace it. I was a little pleased that for one more meal I have a reason to use that old, busted crockpot that used to belong to a lovely person I’ve had the honor of calling friend. One more meal that will connect us though we are 1,000s of miles apart. One more time the old and worn wins out over the new and shiny.