Contentment

To be content with little is hard; to be content with much, impossible. Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

Contentment is something I was always able to feel from time to time. With my ability to dissociate from all emotion there were times when I just felt nice.  Not sad, not wildly happy, just content.  One of those times is when I make jam.  I make it the old fashion way with a pot of boiling fruit, pectin, and sugar.  The smell is wonderful.  The steam coming off is like a hundred dollar facial.  Once all the jars are filled I wait for the telltale popping sound that says, "This jar is sealed."  I never made jam growing up as a child.  Strawberries were considered a treat and not to be mangled and mashed and boiled with sugar.  I learned how to make jam when we lived in a small town with a huge garden and access to fields of strawberries.  I enjoy squishing the fruit and watching them swirl in the pot as I stir and wait for the boiling to begin.  The rhythm, the smell, and the anticipation of what is to come I feel content.  I will plan on  a cool day to bake bread to go with the jam.  Warm crust of bread, dripping with butter and slathered with homemade jam is pure contentment to me.