On December 1st, my great grandmother Johanna was born. She died age eighy-six in 1972 after helping me learn how to walk and talk. She had big, veiny hands which had seen lots of wood piles, hand axes and water buckets.
With these hands she planted seeds in the spring and harvested cabbage and carrots in the summer. She stictched me a pillow case when I was little, which, tattered and torn as it became over time, still remains one of my most treasured possessions.
Together with my granpa’s old paper scale and my great auntie’s candy jar, it links me to a time that was mine in many ways more than the one I inhabit today.
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