Buckwheat waffles from the future

Today has been gray and intermittently drizzly, I decided to loiter in bed reading as long as I possibly could. As each chapter ended I thought, “okay, time to get up”. Then my eyes slowly drifted to the next page, and I just kept reading. Finally my 14 year old son woke up and said he wanted to make buckwheat waffles and pour-over coffee together. Well, of course I want to do that, let’s go whip some egg whites. He did most of the work while I oversaw the project, and then decided to deep clean and descale the electric kettle, and sharpen all the knives in the kitchen while the aroma of butter sizzled in the 1970s sunbeam waffle maker.

“Mom? Will you leave me this waffle maker when you die?” I look over at him from our peaceful project based quietude. He is only recently a fraction of an inch taller than me. A fellow tinkerer and thinker-er. Of course he is the rightful heir to my knives, the french omelet pan, the carbon steel wok, the comal and whatever other spare kitchen implements will be left standing resolutely after my lifetime of use. A new light is cast on these objects when I imagine them outlasting me. The hand made cobalt glazed coffee mug and bowl that I use every day seem more precious in my children’s future hands, and I’m made gladder that they aren’t from a big shop, but bear a mark of a local craftsperson underneath, who lived with us in time.

Of course, the legacy we might leave behind we hope will be an imprint of an inhabited life, more-so than a collection of timeworn objects. I suppose the care present in both the moments and the tools we use to make them, could compel a similar reverence. I’ll leave you a waffle maker, a knife and a mauviel pan, included within them are the memory of a life of making waffles and omelets, while thoughtfully honing our blades.