When cleaning and sorting are in the Things I get to do today, history pops up in unexpected places. Here in the bottom of a box jam jars not used for over a dozen years, I found Evelyn. When I pulled one particular jar from the box to wash it, the stiff, adhesive-gone-gritty masking tape fell off on the counter. Memories flooded back. My name in her easily identifiable hand had been on one of the jars. The bread-and-butter pickle label was still affixed to the container, filling in the details of the story. She wanted to return what was mine. Masking tape was the vehicle.
|Ruth on the left. Evelyn on the right.|