My Grandmother's Love In A Jar

As a child, I eagerly awaited the sweet treat of sunkissed berries while

pink flowers in long panicles adorned the branches for weeks before pastel yellow, waxy and juicy fruit appeared in clusters.

We do not know the exact origin of this tree, but I thank William Bligh for carrying it to the Caribbean.

He allowed my ancestors to create recipes, teaching my grandmother how to transform this sour fruit into candied gems she served us in spoonfuls.

The fruit is called gooseberry, but we call it See-wet in my country.

Once they were harvested and prepped,

I sat close enough, but far away from the growing flame

as my grandmother filled the large pot with See-wet, water, sugar

cinnamon, ginger and other aromatic spices.

Sitting outside on a flattened rock while she stirred the pot

I tried to pay attention to her stories, however

I was distracted by the aroma that transported me back

to when my tongue tangoed with the bold and upbeat notes of

sweetness and spice while the fleshy fruit melted away from the seeds in my mouth.

My tastebuds couldn't wait to experience this warm and sunny delight.

She would catch me daydreaming and invite me to come closer,

placing a drop of sticky juice, which she cooled with her breath, unto the palms of my hands so I could taste it.

When the jam was ready, she placed them in small jars, sealing each to maintain freshness.

We ate them every day until they were gone, often as a snack, dipping slices of thickened homemade bread in the syrup,

or as a dessert, which added that exclamation point to a home-cooked meal.

See-wet jam was a special occasion dish for the trees bloomed once or twice a year.

A reminder of one of the ways my grandmother nourished our family.

She fed us love that came in meals, stories, hugs, and teachings on survival.

When I imagine the taste of See-wet jam, I remember the hands that transformed this tangy fruit into brown hues infused with love and sugar.

My grandmother's homemade jam and the moments we spent together are forever woven into my childhood memories.

I will always remember how she fed my soul.

................

Thank you for reading!