Last week Sue Smart shared this remembrance.

My fondest memories of bread are from my maternal grandmother. Although her family employed a cook to help with raising their six children, my grandmother baked bread each Saturday. Sandwiches or toast or any other way the family consumed bread came from her loving hands.

Once she had grandchildren, of which I am was one of 16, she treated each one of us very specially. In addition to the traditional sized loaves of bread she baked for the family each week, she would make one small loaf and give to a grandchild. It was a loaf for that child alone and she or he did not need to share it with anyone else.

I remember I often received it warm from the oven. Then the butter would soften and I would spread it with jam.

Every Saturday she baked. Every grandchild was treated as very special. Every time I see a small loaf of bread, I remember her gifts.