When I open up my fridge, the first thing I see lays at the top of the basket where we keep our cheeses and lunch meats. It is a Hillshire Farm summer sausage, given to us at Christmas time, and it always makes me smile; not because I particularly love summer sausage (I do), but because it is one of my nephew Chase’s favorite things and he picked it out for us himself. I remember my sister telling us ahead of time not to laugh at his choices, as he’s not even two yet, but I always get a warm feeling inside at the thought of Lisa and her son waddling around WalMart, holding hands, him picking out just the right thing for each person on his list. And when it came to picking out what to get for Aunt Jenny he went for his most favorite food.
Some would say that in his tiny child mind Chase thought it was for himself, but I know better. As Scott couldn’t drive up with me Christmas weekend, I opened presents for the both of us. Sitting on my dad’s living room floor, I remember asking Chase’s permission to open the shiny blue package inscribed “To Aunt Jenny and Uncle Scott, Love Chase.” He toddled over to me as I pulled off the paper, then looked up at me and beamed as my sister explained how Chase did all his own shopping. I remember asking him if we should eat the sausage then. His eyes got a little bigger for a second; the smile never wavered on his little face as he gave a little shake to his head before using two baby hands to press the sausage to my heart.
And so the memory remains in a very tangible form, sitting at the top of the cheese basket in our fridge, the very first thing you see as you open the door. Scott and I keep talking about opening it up to nibble as we watch Mad Men or play Wii, but we haven’t gotten any farther than pulling it out and staring at it with a weird little grin and far-off eyes. There’s a wonderful little boy we’re waiting to share it with.
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