JELLY JARS

My grandmother never had drinking glasses.
But nobody ever lacked for a glass to drink from.
She had the biggest collection
of recycled jelly jars you've ever seen.
Ones with black bands at the top.
Others with red cross-hatched designs.
There were short skinny ones,
taller wider ones,
some with ridges around the rims
that felt funny against your lips when you drank.
As I kid I got a kick out of them.
My mother picked up the habit from my grandmother,
and all through my childhood,
I don't think I ever drank a glass of milk.
It was always a jelly jar of milk.
When I grew up and started earning money,
I started resenting the depression mentality
that continued to keep my mother
from being able to throw out her jelly jars
and buy a set of glassware.
Maybe this explains why in my house today
there are always lots and lots of drinking glasses.
Sets of them.
Matching ones.
Nice ones.
Clear ones.
Green ones.
Amber ones.
Some with facets down the sides.
Some with interesting shapes.
I'm especially fond of big drinking glasses,
really big drinking glasses,
so big that there's not even a shadow of a doubt
that they ever began life as jelly jars.


© Ellen Azorin