Passing The Baton
Updated: May 22, 2022
my home is not orderly, not traditionally speaking that is.
I do not mind a certain amount of clutter, but somethings,
a few seemingly insignificant things must remain
where my eye and hand can reach them in a moments notice.
Should these be misplaced, I become ungrounded, like the lily pad
I found untethered from the lake’s bottom.
They are simple things, like my nana’s wooden spoon.
I can feel her hand as my hand grasps it to stir sauce. Or I can rest my eyes upon it knowing she is watching close by, for the spirit world holds no boundaries. I can spot this spoon, in all her majesty, worn from love and the joy of being used. Her presence is noticed, though she stands among many other wooden spoons. And I greet her every morning, wondering if my other spoons are aware they do not yet hold her status. Occasionally, someone, places her in a drawer, without thinking. My day comes to a halt, I no longer feel connected. She is, after all, part of my root bed. And before washing last night’s dishes, or preparing this morning’s espresso, I must unearth her. And in doing so, I am complete. Once again, I look forward to a day of serving, a day of loving, and a day of discovery. I suppose you could say, the spoon is much like a baton, which I have graciously received from Nana, a woman who infused me with her strong sense of integrity , justice, and love.
She was a wise woman, and she proudly admitted to not having gone to school past the third grade. Yet she spoke both Italian and English , and could read and write in both languages as well.
Caring for people was her love, her passion, and she did it through food, sewing, gardening, but mostly in listening, always weighing the information presented, before offering a thought for one to consider.
One of her many quotes, that stirs within me is “When you do something good for someone, do it and forget about it. But when someone does something good for you, never forget about it.”
To an Italian nana, the spoon is a symbol. It is the tool that stirs the pot.. It is also the weapon that threatens to spank the child. So mixing love with discipline, my spoon rests secure.