As Grandma grew stronger, she started cooking again. We’d stand side by side at the stove, and every time I reached for the cast iron pan, I’d hear her voice in my head: “Treat it right, and it’ll last forever.”
In that kitchen, I learned about resilience, forgiveness, and the power of choosing people who choose you back.
Eventually, I decided to stay in Blueford permanently. I found a job at the community center, helping organize events and cooking classes for seniors. Aksel and I kept building something real, slow and steady, like seasoning a good cast iron skillet.
One evening, as Grandma set the table, she looked up and said, “I’ve never seen you so happy.” I knew she was right. Even after everything—the heartbreak, the loneliness, the fear—I felt whole again. Not because someone saved me, but because I learned how to save myself.
I started sharing my love of cooking with others, teaching people to care for their cast iron pans the same way we should care for each other: with patience, attention, and respect.
And when I’d see someone almost boil water in theirs, I’d laugh and remember that day Grandma scolded me. I’d remember how a simple kitchen lesson led to healing wounds I thought would never close.
Here’s what I learned: life will scorch you sometimes, but you can always re-season your heart. You can always start over, stronger and better than before.
So, treat your cast iron pan—and your heart—with care. Don’t be afraid to let people in who show you they’re willing to stay, even when things get messy.
And remember, love isn’t perfect. It’s just people choosing each other, day after day.
If you enjoyed this story, please like and share it with someone who could use a little hope today. Let’s spread the love—and the wisdom of a good, well-seasoned pan.
