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The simple bowl is deep cherry wood with a silver rimmed underside that reflects my head upside down as a result of this polishing it has obtained over time. The grain is worn out, but still radiates the strength of the tree it came out. As I run my finger across the interior of the cavernous salad bowl, it picks up some of the olive oil residue from the homemade Italian dressing that has seeped into every little grain of this bowl over years of usage. Never subject to washings; we only wiped it out using a paper towel to better flavor the crisp Boston bibb lettuce salads it delivered at every family dinner. Just as the timber bowl, my grandma was weathered and cracked by the trials of existence. I could not be around her without leaving with a trace of her internal wisdom which came from experiencing life. And such as the bowl , she delivered savory moments of life that left us yearning for more. When my grandma died this bowl was the 1 thing that I desired. An avid jewelry collector, my grandmother owned a large group of beautiful jewelry. Since the oldest granddaughter, I was entitled to obtain some of her jewellery. But, my thoughts continued to reflect on the old cherry salad . The salad bowl reflects my grandmother unlike any precious stone or gold necklace can. My grandma is a practical, no-nonsense person. I always knew I could obtain an honest, if not blunt, opinion from her. And I constantly felt her love and concern for my well being and achievement. Receiving clothes for birthdays and Christmas is never cool once you're young. However, I never minded getting clothes from my grandparents. My grandma always chose out the coolest name brand clothes. I looked forward to every Christmas or birthday morning running downstairs...