These pages are for you. One day, when you’re older, I hope you will find them and know that I wrote them all this time ago with your precious little selves in mind.
Like any casual letters, they’ll tell you a bit about whatever I’m noodling when I write them.
Might be how my heart sang when I heard you and your sister or cousins making music in the living room while I worked at my desk.
Might be about a recipe I’m tweaking and looking forward to sharing with you one day.
Very likely they will include something about the ways the world is changing as it heats up with global warming, and what some of us are doing to mitigate that.
Sadly, your future looks rather bleak and trying, given the careless way we’ve spoiled the air, water and soil that make human life possible, but lots of us are working to change that. I pray we still have time.
Whatever you find in these letters, may you always find love, and perhaps a treasure trove for you to find one day, when you need it.
You can’t know now, but one day you may miss–and try to conjure–my voice as I do my grandmother’s and dad’s and others who have passed. How I wish they had left journals and notebooks filled with their musings and stories for us to find!
This, stories from my kitchen, is my way, in part, of recording and leaving a little of that legacy I would like to have received.
I’m so happy for you, my darling grandchildren, that you have parents who wanted you more than they wanted anything else in life, and that they love you so much. I yearn for a world where every child enjoys such blessings.
Keep shining your happy smiles and love into the world, and never, ever be afraid to stand up for what you believe in and speak your mind. Just do it with respect for those who hear you, and most of all, respect for yourself.