A Legacy of Pink

My mother inspired me beyond any other person who walked the face of the earth. With a gentle spirit she taught me to cook with love, garden with beauty, and embrace family with jubilant wonder. Her mother taught her and it is the legacy of a grandmother I never knew that I ponder today.
My oldest sister remembers Grandma B as a wiry, spirited soul who scurried into the yard to grab a chicken, chop off it’s head and prepare it for supper the same night. I know through stories she planted a garden, but what she planted is lost. Many of the recipes that my family treasure came from Grandma B’s kitchen. Her soft, spicy gingerbread men visit every holiday. An old recipe for grape juice, written in her hand, is a recipe yet to be tried, but I imagine rows of purple grape juice lining a pantry shelf some day.
I know so little of this woman, who bore and raised my mother and aunt. A few years before I was born, Grandma B succumbed to breast cancer. She was only 48 years old. It was with great fear and trepidation that my mom approached her 48th birthday, but she breezed by it until cancer took her away from us at the age of 74.
I like to think of my mom in a beautiful garden, sitting in a rocking chair cuddling a baby, whispering softly to the fuzzy headed cherub while fragrance from pink roses waft around her. Close by my grandmother rests in a vegetable garden with chickens scratching at fertile earth.

These two women left me a legacy of pink…pink flowers, pink toes, pink ribbons, and so much more that reminds me that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I remember each, grandmother and mother, with a sprig of rosemary and a pink rose tied with a satiny pink ribbon.