Stained

This morning I awoke to rain.  My first reaction?  Bake something.

Spying the less than fresh bananas languishing on my counter I decided that a batch of banana walnut muffins was in order.

I retrieved one of my many recipe folders and dug around till I found the recipe I needed.  As I held it in my hand, I noticed just how tattered and banged up it was.  I thought to myself that this poor thing looked pretty bad.  I placed the recipe on the counter and set to work.  Bowl... flour... eggs...

One batch of muffins now in the oven.

As I finished up my bakerly duties, I swiped the recipe back off of the counter and gave it another look.  Wow. It really had seen better days.  It was stained and ragged and bent.  Some parts were so bad that they were nearly obliterated by the signs of use.  I suppose it shouldn't have been a complete surprise as it had, indeed, been used for many years. Those obscured bits were followed just as correctly as the rest... I knew them in my heart.

I remembered where I had gotten it.  I remembered the dozens and dozens of times it had given it's knowledge to me.

As I turned it over in my hand again, I began to see more.  I saw it's wisdom.

It had a history.  Every stain, every mark, every tear...

I felt just as stained...

Torn...

Used...

Put back into a box and forgotten till needed once more.

Still, it gave.

So will I.