Preserves Memories I miss my Aunt and Granny, I miss the days when I could go to them with my probl ems

and they would tell me about their youth and how things were when they were my age. I often recall thinking how hard their lives had been and how they made it through those difficult times. When I think about those stories they reminded me of the sweetness and tartness of preserves, my Granny often made, and I came up with his verse. Memories are like jars of preserves. You prepare the fruit, cook them down and let them cool. Then you prepare the jars, washing them carefully and sit them aside. You prepare the labels and place them on the jars. Then you add the cooled mixture to the appropriate jars. Sealing them tightly, so no air will seep inside to spoil their goodness. You store these jars inside a dark cool place, often forgetting that they’re there , until a hungry child comes to sit at your table eager to open a jar of your tast iness. Sometimes a jar might developed a crack allowing air to seep inside ruining the treat with mold and sadly you have to throw it away, but most of the time the p reserves is perfect, allowing the child to savior the texture of your sweat and tears, your joys and pains to aid them in their struggle. I advice anyone that’s out there that think your struggle in this world is hard, t o go ask your parents or grandparents how it was in their time and you’re be surpr ised what they will tell you. Hold on to your memories because one day, when you’re older, a young person might come up to you and ask. “So, how was it like in your day?” I know I will.

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