She had waited a long time for this day but in that moment in seemed like she never had enough time at all. She took a deep breath and checked the chest one last time. Linens, sheets, her one church dress, her good shoes all there. The pot she saved all summer for and her rolling pin. She asked him if he had one at the house already and he said, “No. Cant say that I do. And if I do I dont know where it is.” “What kind of kitchen doesn’t have a rolling pin?” she asked herself as she stuffed it in the chest betwinxt her shoes and her white sheets. She had packed this chest for such an occasion as this and was still unprepared. It lacked mini ruffled socks and gloves for precious hands and feet, but how could she know? She fingered the fabric she stalked until it was discounted with the distinct plan of making the only white dress she would wear. She always thought it would be so sweet for her daughters to wear the scraps of her dress in their hair as bows; she just didnt think it would be so soon.
She married that man, moved into his house and raised his kids. And dont you know, 75 years later it was the rolling pin and not the linens that her great granddaughter used.
I look at that rolling pin as I approach another holiday where I will only be making a plate for myself and wonder what I have to bring into a relationship. I dont have a chest filled with heirlooms and home furnishings. I dont even have anything worth anything in my savings account. If I was a part of my great grandmother’s generation I wouldnt be much of a woman at all. Unprepared and frivolous, a girl not ready to be a real lady. But my chest is full of acceptance, respect, trust, love and a mean red velvet from scratch. And Im still packing.