29 jars. Some will nourish my own three children and husband. Some will be enjoyed by my uncles and Gramma. Some will be gifts for those I love.
But today jam was more than just jam. It was wrinkled, competent hands guiding me. It was a gentle, firm voice teaching me. It was laughing and singing songs in her voice that I've known since I was still in my mothers womb.
It was dancing the dance of people who know each other deeply, in a kitchen where so many of my wonderful childhood memories were made. It was hearing stories of her Grandma and wondering if maybe, one day, I may be blessed with a granddaughter to share moments like these with.
It was more than just jam. It was memories. Mine, hers, her grandmothers and on along the women before us and on still to those yet to come, I hope.
29 jars of jam. And love.