September 10, 2001

Suburbs of Chicago

24 years old.

The summer before, we had planted almost every variety of tomato plant we could find. We had dug out a tiny garden in our yard and were gifted with more tomatoes than any two people could ever possibly need or want.

This day, I set about to canning the tomatoes. I had bought mason jars and lid sealers and a large pot to boil them in. I wanted to be domestic. I was living with a man and I wanted to treat him well. The idea of canning homegrown fruits and vegetables thrilled me. I found myself fantasizing about the sauces, soups, and stews I could make with my newly jarred tomatoes.

But I never ended up using them for anything.

I just spent the rest of the year looking at the dated labels and thinking how I could never have realized what the next day would bring.