From JuJu with Love

My mom had this cookie jar on the kitchen counter in her Florida house.

It was goofy — a little old lady with big glasses holding a coffee cup that said, “You again?”

And every time my nieces and nephew went to visit Grandma in Florida, they would open that cookie jar and laugh. They thought it was the funniest thing.

It became part of the ritual.

Cookies… and giggles.

When my mom died and I went down to Florida to pack up her house, Katie specifically asked for it.

“Can you bring us the cookie jar?”

So I wrapped it up carefully and loaded it into the van when we shipped everything back to Michigan. It ended up on Katie’s kitchen counter, where it stayed for years.

Until life shifted — as it does.

A few years ago, Katie downsized and didn’t have room for it anymore. So she gave it back to me for safekeeping.

One day, while helping Katie’s family downsize, we packed up my SUV with things she could no longer store, and I drove them home.

I pulled into my garage, opened the back…

…and the cookie jar fell.

Right onto the concrete.

The jar itself was fine.

But the lid shattered.

I just stood there staring at it, sick to my stomach.

Katie had kept that cookie jar safe for years. She wanted it back someday.

And now… I broke it.

So I did what any rational person would do.

I took it to a repair shop and left it there.

For months.

Five or six, I think.

It cost me $180 to fix a $20 Hallmark cookie jar.

And I never questioned whether it was worth it.

When I told Katie, she laughed and told me I was ridiculous.

“The kids would never have known. You could’ve just bought another one.”

But that wasn’t the point.

This wasn’t a cookie jar.

This was Grandma’s cookie jar.

And now… it’s whole again.

It’s safely tucked away in a box in my basement now, waiting for the right moment.

Someday, when the time feels right, I’ll give it to one of Katie’s children.

Whoever wants it.

Not because it’s valuable.

Because it isn’t.

But some things become priceless because of the people who loved them.

I hope when they open that box, they’ll remember the cookies, the laughter, and how much their grandma loved them.

And maybe…

they’ll smile and hear those familiar words:

“You again?”

From Juju with love 💙