As a kid, I remember my mom telling me more than once to never let the whisk sit in water or it would rust. I don't know if she didn't have a stainless steel whisk or if she only thought it would rust or if it was something else all together, but to this day, I always rinse off the whisk and then set it on the counter. It makes me wonder how many other things I do without realizing it's from things I heard as a child.
It's also a strange way to remember my mom. Every time I use the whisk, I think of her. I swear that I can even hear her voice in my head reminding me about rusting.
When my mom died, I never thought she'd come back into my thoughts because of such a strange thing. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, memorable moments--yes. Using a whisk? Such an ordinary, mundane thing? It surprised me.
But then maybe it is the ordinary moments that resonate somewhere deep inside us, the unexpected moments. The quiet moments.
