“What’s this?”
“Be careful!”
“Jeeze, have a cow why don’t you!”
“I’m sorry, Susie. And watch your language.”

Mary gently picked up the object in question and replaced it on the kitchen shelf, sneezing as some of the dust Susie had dislodged drifted into her face.

“So. . .what is it, Grams?”
“It was my mother’s ice cream churn.”
“Oh! Does it still work?”

Susie loved ice cream more than life itself.

“Maybe. I haven’t used it for ages. It might.”
Eyes shining, Susie asked, “If I clean it, can we try it? Please?”

Mary sighed. There was no reason to say no, but she hesitated. Her memories of happy summers filled with sunshine and laughter, of combining sugar and fresh cream under her mother’s gentle direction were almost sacrosanct to her now.

Seeing her reluctance, Susie put on her best puppy dog eyes, batting her lashes for emphasis.

It was too much. Mary laughed.

“Alright dear. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything. Have I ever told you about my mother?”
“Nope. Did she do anything cool?”