Keeping Memories

This is the roasting pan that belonged to my grandmother, then my mother and now me. It is incredibly heavy, and even though the outside enameling has a few chips here and there, it still works great. It is the pan that roasts our Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys every year. It's certainly not the most valuable thing they left me, but it is one of the most treasured because it holds so many memories. Just think of the tales it could tell if it could speak. The kitchens, full of various female relatives helping with the cooking, children underfoot, and the roasting pan sitting there listening to everything that was said. Oh, my.

Every time I lift it to put it in the oven I think of my grandmother, using it to roast a turkey in a wood burning stove as a young married woman, later using, as she described them, "one of them newfangled gas things that might could blow us to Kingdom Come any minute," and my mother, who cooked with stoves pretty similar to the ones of today.

I have several serious health issues, but when I lift that pan, which usually has a 25 pound turkey in it, it seems light. I wonder if that is because... just maybe...my grandma and mama are right there lifting it with me?

I like to think so.