Most of the time it’s the little things that make me sentimental. If you’ve been following me for any length of time you’ll know that I was very close to my husband’s grandmother who passed away just over a year ago. Today, while in the freezer section of the grocery store, I had one of those sentimental moments–over a Jennie-O Turkey and Gravy loaf.

We would occasionally have random family dinners, and sometimes these would involve ham. I don’t like smoked ham. Enough that I don’t eat it, pretty much at all. So when a family dinner is slated to involve ham, whoever is cooking makes a chicken breast for me to eat. This particular dinner though, Nanie decided I should have turkey. But not just any turkey. Turkey and gravy in a ready-to-roast pan. (I should probably note that I also do not eat gravy, although I can scrape it off if need be.) My mother-in-law tried to convince Nanie that this was a bad idea. But Nanie was stubborn. Turkey and gravy in a pan it was to be.

It was vile. I scraped the gravy off and surveyed my pressed meat loaf. Grey, soggy and sad, it taunted me. I managed to eat a reasonable amount, feining a lack of appetite after an imaginary big breakfast. And then it came time to head home. Like many grandmothers, Nanie wanted to send us home with food. And she wanted me to take the rest of the turkey loaf. I was able to beg off, saying that there was no way I’d be able to eat it all before it went bad. Thankfully, she never knew that I hated it. It was better that way.