09/17/2026
There’s something about this old stockpot that means so much more to me than what most people would ever see when they look at it. It’s worn, faded, scratched, but when I pull it out and put it on the stove, I don’t just see an old pot. I see my Meemaw. Then the smell starts filling the house, for just a moment and it feels like I’m right back there with her. I can see her in the kitchen, cooking a big pot of chili in this same pot like she did every year.
Grief has taught me that sometimes the smallest, most ordinary things become the most priceless. Things that once seemed so normal become the things you would give anything to experience with that person just one more time. Smell is powerful like that; it can unlock a memory so quickly that, for a second, you can almost hear their voice and feel their presence again.
Today, this isn’t just a pot of chili cooking on my stove. It’s a piece of my childhood. It’s tradition, & it’s home.
But even more than that, it’s a reminder of a woman I loved deeply and the ordinary moments with her that I didn’t realize would someday become some of my most treasured memories. I can’t sit in her kitchen with her again but every once in a while, something as simple as this old stockpot and the smell of chili gives me a little piece of that feeling back.
That’s one of the beautiful things about love, it leaves pieces of itself behind in the most unexpected places ❤️
