In the end, I placed the box of vases on the mantle in my home. I selected one—a delicate pink one—and placed a single fresh flower inside. A quiet tribute, a continuation of a tradition that began before I existed. A bridge between generations, built out of glass, memory, and love.
And I realized that discovering those miniature vases had given me something I never expected: a deeper understanding of the people who came before me, a connection to a grandfather I never met, and a new way to love the grandmother I thought I already knew.
To see the full cooking instructions, go to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE it with your friends on Facebook.
