Many moons ago – many many moons – I came across an old jar in my mom’s attic filled with sea glass. I brought it down, cleaned it up, filled it with jujubes and put it on my kitchen counter. It followed me around for years and always sat on the kitchen counter in whatever place I happened to live at the time. It was the first stop for #1 Son and his friends whenever they came into the house. That and the fridge for a glass of koolaid. When I moved in with my mom, she took over the jujube jar and was positively religious about keeping that jar well stocked. The jujube jar became hers and EVERYONE stopped at the jujube jar. That was a lot of ‘everyone’ because she had a whole lot more visitors than I ever did. She even knew which colour they all liked. When the great-grand children came along, one lone jujube was cut into tiny pieces so the boys could safely swallow. Too cute. Needless to say, they quickly outgrew the need to have their jujubes sliced into a dozen little nibbles! That jujube jar could tell a couple hundred stories for sure, sitting there on the kitchen counter in the midst of all the action! Mom’s company rarely made it to the living room. All the shenanigans took place at the kitchen table. Much like #1Son’s house. So today I cleaned up the jar, filled it, and I’m bringing it ‘home’. I’m wondering if the boys will recognize it. Matching jammies do not make a family, but a jar of mismatched jujubes? Twice loved!