Today I’m going to share something extra special, one of the few items on the list of things to grab if the house were on fire. Yep, it’s that important. Are you ready?
I bet you weren’t expecting that, huh?
I know, it’s incredible. Probably one of the most amazing things you’ve ever seen. I bet you’re looking at it and feeling jealous, because of how plain awesome it is that I have this amazing treasure in my house.
Okay, so maybe some of you are looking at it and don’t see what’s so amazing. For you, I’ll explain. This magnificent little beauty, you see, is my great-grandmother’s measuring cup.
It’s beaten and battered, a little misshapen, and one of the most incredible things I’m fortunate enough to own. Throughout my entire life, this was the only measuring cup Grandma needed. When I was a child, she would let me drink milk out of it while I pretended to be a pioneer. Then she’d wash it up and we’d make some kind of treat. There were always treats at Grandma’s house, pudding or Jell-o or freshly baked cookies. There were always cups of chocolate milk and bowls of ice cream. There were lemon drops and butterscotch candies. There were normally popsicles, but if they ever ran out, there was always a quarter in her purse for us to walk to the butcher shop across the street to get one.
When my great-grandmother passed away, my mother asked if there was anything I wanted from Grandma’s house, since she was going to be helping clean and pack everything up. I didn’t have to think about it, there were two things I wanted to have, things that might have seemed like worthless junk to anyone else. The silver spoon with the B on the handle and all its plating worn off, and Grandma’s measuring cup.
Because those are the things that are important, you see; treasures that can never be replaced by anything else, because of all the memories captured inside them. Making treats with Grandma and her measuring cup, and then eating them with the worn-out silver spoon. They’re the very essence of all the goodness Grandma was, a perfect picture of the blissful afternoons spent visiting her house.
This time of year makes them extra important. As fall baking begins, all my own special treats to be shared with my husband and daughter are made using Grandma’s measuring cup. All the memories come back while cooking, making it feel almost like she’s there beside me. I wouldn’t trade that for the world. So while all you see might be a battered old tin measuring cup, what I see is priceless: Love.