"In the South, perhaps more than any other region, we go back to our home in dreams and memories, hoping it remains what it was on a lazy, still summer's day twenty years ago."
It's the simplicity in it all... While others seem to have lost the art form of givin', helpin' a person in need that can never truly repay you- The South clings to it like summers of long past. A simple Facebook post about pickled okra. How as a Southerner I'd shammed myself for never takin' a bite. A post so simple in nature, that post, that post that lead to such a sweet gesture. I wouldn't expect anythin' less livin' in The South. I came home, still thinkin' about the picked okra, i'd had yet to taste. A pretty bag with music tissue paper lay awaitin' for me. One glance and I knew what await. I eagerly took the contents and rushed them in the fridge. I may not have eaten picked okra but I knew it'd be better chilled. I was excited. It was even canned and homemade. Right up my alley.
The okra tasted better than I expected. For someone who'd only eaten it fried and in my gumbo I was impressed. Impressed beyond measure.
So... Mrs. Martha, thank you for the friendship-selflessness that showed itself in a jar of pickled okra.
In the spirit of givin':
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