It’s simple. Probably silly, even. To cling to food as if it’s going to bring my mother back. As if somehow with the bite of our favorite snack, I’ll be transported back to when she was here.
But with each bite of this generic dip and plain potato chips, I feel comfort. I feel a rush of memories.
I feel her.
My mother.
I see her.
My mother.
I see her house decorated for the holidays, with a wonderful spread of food, and there on the counter, is a plain bag of chips and this very brand of dip.
It’s always been our favorite, so she made sure it was there. Always.
No matter the occasion. No matter how fancy or how mundane, it was there.
So I buy it now. Not only because I love it, but because it’s what she’d do. Because it’s tradition. Because it was an act of love, a delicious snack we’ve treasured for decades.
So on this Christmas Eve, I’m standing in my kitchen eating chips and french onion dip and remembering her and all of the things she did to make my life special.
And I hope you do the same, friends.
Remember.
Cherish.
Love.
Happy Holidays.
