This morning I was all, "Man, I wish I had some of my mom's raspberry peach jam. That, plus some Nutella on toast? Dude."
Then I was like, "She never makes it anymore! Ugh! I bet even if I drove up there to steal some, there wouldn't be any..."
And THEN I thought, "Wait, I could, like, MAKE some myself. Whoa. I could so do that!"
So I went to the store and bought fresh raspberries and peaches and lemons. I got canning jars and pectin. And all the while I couldn't help thinking about how long it took me to realize I could make the dang jam myself.
Even now sometimes I still act like a child—"Mom! Make me some jam! Gosh!"—and I have to step back and remember that I am, shockingly, a grown up now. If I want homemade jam, I have two hands completely capable of peeling peaches and stirring in an alarming amount of sugar.
It was scary at first. I'd helped my mom but never done it myself. I might have messed it up. I admit I forgot to grab a few ingredients and ran out to the store...three times. I fumbled over the slippery peaches. I felt like a wuss when my arms burned from stirring and stirring.
But I made jam! And I did it by myself. Self-sufficiency feels good. Tastes good, too.