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Fig preserves


158487.txtFig preserves By: Anita BuffingtonIts funny how the smallest things in life seem to induce the fondest memories. A few weeks ago I had a sweet tooth, so I scoured my kitchen in search of something to quench it. I checked every shelf, every cabinet, and every nook and cranny. Nothing! Not a scrap of candy, cookie, or cake to be found. I dont eat manysweets mind you, and I seldom get a sweet tooth, but when I do its a craving only sugar can satisfy. Knowing full well that there was nothing in my icebox that would be of any interest, I opened the door one last time just to be sure.The first thing my eyes fell upon was a jar of fig preserves. It was an average pint sized mason jar that looked like nothing out of the ordinary. Ironically these fig preserves were indeed quite extraordinary, only in sentimental value of course. Yes, this particular jar of figs was quite special, considering that it was the last jar in existence.Despite the many years that my grandmother spent canning these sugary confections, the last remaining jar fashioned by her loving hands sat in front of mein my very own icebox. I walked to the silverware drawer and grabbed a fork before sitting down with the jar at my kitchen table. I unscrewed the shiny gold ring, and used the end of the fork to pop off the lid. Though the jar was only a fourth of theway empty, but I secretly wished for some magic way to refill it.I closed my eyes and held the jar under my nose savoring the enticing aroma of the tender fruit. Since my grandmother passed away in December of 2007, I always knew that there would come a day when there wouldnt be any more of Maw Maws figs to pass around. Without another thought I stabbed a plump juicy fig with my fork andpopped it into my eagerly waiting mouth. I closed my eyes and relished the preserves, as only my grandma could make them. It was every bit as good as I expected, and even better than I remembered.It was so good in fact that I ate another, and another, and another, before stopping. I wanted to devour each and every sweet little treat, until all I could see was the bottom of the jar. I wanted to smell the figs cooking and see my grandmothers kind tender face. I wanted to feel her loving arms around me and to hear her gentle voice whisper Its gonna be alright. Then I wished I could turn back the clock and sit down at her table with her to enjoy her infamous figs fresh off the stove.Emptying the jar wouldnt help anything, just like wishing her here on her wasnt going to bring her back. Seeing the figs sitting in my icebox reminded me that night of how the small things seem to get lost through the cracks with the passage of time. I thought of other fond memories and reminisced the good old days. With a tear in my eye, I replaced the lid and screwed the ring back on before replacing the figs on the shelf they normally occupied. I thought once again about the gloomy day that the jar would actually be empty. Maw Maws figs may slowly disappear, but her memory will live on forever.Each and everyday she lives on in my heart, and her positive influences continue to guide my actions. I consider myself quite lucky to have been a part of such a remarkable womans life, and to have had the opportunity to appreciate her fine cooking. She has left a lasting mark on many peoples lives, and for that I will forever be forever thankful for Grandmothers and fig preserves.Page 1

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For anyone who loves grandmas, figs, preserves, or any combination of them.


3/4/2010 12:46 PM Premium
Great Stuff! I look forward to seeing some more of your work.



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Votes: 3
Views: 1,428
Date: 1/8/10
Other: Writing