Ever since Christmas Day I have used these potholders exclusively. Whether cooking indoors in my relatively antiseptic kitchen or out at the messy-by-nature grill, they have been my go-to choice.
Mind you, I have a stack of potholders in a drawer, all coordinated with my groovy aqua kitchen. Nevertheless, these mitts remain at the top at the top of the stack. Ever-ready.
Just like my friends who gave them to me.
As had been the case for Thanksgiving, at Christmas my mother, who lives two miles away, wasn’t speaking to me. I know it’s her mental illness, but still, sad. Sad for her to be alone on a holiday so unnecessarily. But that was her choice. I was happy to be with my fellow non-dramatic feline and equine residents at Tucked Away Farm.
I didn’t tell anyone local I was going to be alone. But Christmas Eve Billy Bob (the horse) brought Caspar (the human, although both Caspar and I would argue unanimously in the horse’s favor on who is a superior being) by. Caspar asked me about my plans for Christmas, and I said, “Oh, just keeping it low key.” Judging by the time transpired, no sooner had he returned home, settled Mr. Bob in the barn, and made it into the house, then I received an email invitation from Caspar’s wife Joan, asking me to join their family for Christmas dinner. I accepted.
The Love of Potholders
It was a wonderful treat watching the five of them as a family, getting to know Derek whom I had met only once and turns out to be as sharp and unique as his parents and sister.
After dinner it was time for presents. (I hadn’t anticipated that.) Lizzy, the adorable Spitz I have the honor of babysitting on occasion, got the first one, of course. And played and played. And was the subject of many a picture by star family photographer Hayley.
I was a little embarrassed when Joan handed me a gift to open. But I knew the meaning of it and gladly accepted. The package contained an oven mitt and potholder. Simple gifts. Perhaps even something she conjured up so as to not leave me out. It was the thought that mattered. That I matter to them.
And that thought continues on. Every time I cook.
There’s that saying about choosing one’s own family. But this is a case of a family choosing me. Choosing me to share with them a day of great meaning. Especially to them, the family of Pastor Caspar McCloud.
I cherish that mitt and potholder. They reminded me tonight that true family, true friends, are always there. All I have to do is open that bottom right hand drawer by the cooktop to be reminded. To be hugged.