I made German Potato Salad tonight, following the recipe card that my great-aunt Connie wrote in her loping cursive. The recipe card is yellowed and spattered with what I can only imagine is bacon grease.
As much as I love Allrecipes.com, there’s something special about cooking from a recipe hand-written by a relative who is no longer living on earth. I think about her–about all the cook-outs from days gone by, all the get-togethers, all the laughter and inside jokes, the kids running around–I was once one of those kids–and the older folks sitting on lawn chairs, shooting the breeze.
Life changes so dramatically but in such small increments sometimes that we don’t realize it’s changing.
And then one day the babies are all grown with babies of their own who are graduating from high school. The gray-haired aunts and uncles shrink and battle cancer or their hearts fail and they leave us behind. We move from being the young ones to being the old ones, from being the college kids to being the adults, from being the parents to being the grandparents. It happens in a flash, happens so fast we can’t even feel the earth moving.
And so I made Aunt Connie’s German Potato Salad and thought of her.
(It was delicious.)