The day I made jam…

I made jam today. I watched my lil kumquats grow over the months, and finally they were ready for my first attempt at jam making.

It was a lil trial and error, that turned into the perfect jars of jammy jam.

I was quietly impressed. I wanted to share the moment with my grandmother, but she's long passed. I often think of her, I know she'd be proud of me, she was a hard woman, but I think she admired my spirit.

I also wanted to tell my mother.

There's a lot of things I've wanted to tell my mother, or ask her about.

She's still here, it's the relationship that has passed.

Sometimes, there's a softness in my heart, a fond memory, a yearning for her support, but it's short lived.

There are days I'm angry at her, especially when I am hurt, feeling alone or defeated. The kinda times when only a mother's words would suffice. But I console myself with the simple facts, not all mothers mother well.

Fortunately my partners parents were visiting, so I was able to share my lil milestone in a familial way.

I wouldn't have thought the simple act of jam making would summon the myriad of emotions that transpired . They started as a subtle whisper, and escalated to an emotional slide.

Yes, those feelings, are/were usually packed away, but the jam making, was an invitation for them to make an impromptu appearance. You never know what the catalyst might be, but I feel like it's important to acknowledge the feelings, yet not dwell on them. It seems healthier to sit uncomfortably for a short time and process the thoughts in a balanced way, than to allow my subconcious to incite a meltdown.

Maybe it was never really about the jam, but more about the need to acknowledge my loss. A loss that can never be recouped. I don't think that emptiness ever really leaves, you just get better at accepting it. Life is always going to throw curve balls, we have to acknowledge them, but at some point you just have to decide that from here on out life is going to be magical, regardless...

Anyways, I made jam.