Gramma Hines’ cookie jar holds special memories for me. Like my grandmother, it was like a treasure box when I was a child, holding special wealth inside. It was plain and uncomplicated, and still is, beautiful in its own convincing way. I like its simplicity, a soft but strong opaque green throughout; soft enough to let the sunlight in, strong enough to stand the test of time. Like Gramma, it did the job it needed to do, quietly and continually. It was always there, in the corner cabinet, a bit out of my reach.
Funny, I always felt that way about Gramma. She was always there for me but could I ever become that pillar of strength to someone in the way she was to me? A bit out of my reach, I thought as a child.
The cherished bread bag (because everything was used and reused in those days) tucked and pleated around that cookie jar lid, secured safely at the top, was there “to protect chips of glass from getting into your cookies,” Gramma always said. That was just like her, to always be concerned about our well being-even down to the tiniest of things. And inside, generous sugar cookies with sparkly sprinkles of sugar on top, soft and moist. Once you got your hand inside you sometimes couldn’t get your hand and the cookie out all at once! Sweet, precious gifts that didn’t even have a hand written recipe –made straight from her heart.
Gramma was the same way, no printed directions with her, what you saw was what you got, with those special touches-just like sugar cookie sprinkles on top-she used to add to everything from family gatherings to fresh homemade bread with melty butter and cinnamon sugar on top to teaching me how to play Pepper. Those memories are inside that cookie jar today sitting in a safe spot in my home. When I get the urge, I lift the aged green glass lid and take in all the wonderful memories like I did long ago…those sweet smells of my gramma and her homemade sugar cookies.
Funny, I always felt that way about Gramma. She was always there for me but could I ever become that pillar of strength to someone in the way she was to me? A bit out of my reach, I thought as a child.
The cherished bread bag (because everything was used and reused in those days) tucked and pleated around that cookie jar lid, secured safely at the top, was there “to protect chips of glass from getting into your cookies,” Gramma always said. That was just like her, to always be concerned about our well being-even down to the tiniest of things. And inside, generous sugar cookies with sparkly sprinkles of sugar on top, soft and moist. Once you got your hand inside you sometimes couldn’t get your hand and the cookie out all at once! Sweet, precious gifts that didn’t even have a hand written recipe –made straight from her heart.
Gramma was the same way, no printed directions with her, what you saw was what you got, with those special touches-just like sugar cookie sprinkles on top-she used to add to everything from family gatherings to fresh homemade bread with melty butter and cinnamon sugar on top to teaching me how to play Pepper. Those memories are inside that cookie jar today sitting in a safe spot in my home. When I get the urge, I lift the aged green glass lid and take in all the wonderful memories like I did long ago…those sweet smells of my gramma and her homemade sugar cookies.