I fed my roommate and fiance' last night.
(That fact in itself is a blessing; worth a thankfulness, a pondering.)
As I packed up the leftovers, I went to the pantry and discovered it: New Tin Foil. It was a brand new box of Reynold's Wrap that my roommate must have gotten, as she has a habit of Bringing Home Useful Things.
New Tin Foil made my heart sigh a little; a loss. An emptiness.
You see, years ago my Granny Goo moved from her duplex into Assisted Living. As she did so, she bequeathed Old Tin Foil to me. Scads and scads of it. I swear, the woman gave me at least five or six boxes.
Most of it was the wide kind and extra heavy-duty. It has saved me from baking pan cleanup for years now! I thought I would never run out.
But Old Tin Foil is gone. Suddenly, irrevocably. And it's nothing, nothing... Tin foil doesn't even function on the level of a kitchen utensil. Let's be honest: it's not even a gadget!
But I still have a wet eye. Old Tin Foil is gone.
It just makes her more gone. Granny Goo.
A little farther away from her bacon-wrapped maple green beans. Farther from our Christmas Eve Ham Sandwich Rolls. (Or as we call them, "...those ham sandwiches. Do we want to have them?")
Yes. Yes, and forever yes.
Old Tin Foil passes away and New has come to take its place, in many ways.
But I will keep Old Tin Foil in my heart. In the duplex. Making sandwiches.