The Tomatoes That Brought Me Home: Making Memories Into a Pattern
A small garden, a big memory, and a full-circle moment
I grew up in the suburbs of New Jersey, close to both the beach and Six Flags Great Adventure. One of my clearest childhood memories with my grandparents is of the tomatoes they had growing out back. They’d cut them up for tomato sandwiches (according to my mom) or eat them on their own with just a sprinkle of salt (this is the version I remember). Delicious.
I laugh when I think about how both my grandfather and my mom would say the tomatoes just grew—with little to no effort. It’s one of the reasons tomatoes became the first vegetable I tried to grow myself.
The difference? My first time growing them wasn’t in the suburbs of New Jersey. It was on the back balcony of our home in Philadelphia, the first house we bought after college and years of living in apartments. No backyard, no big planters, barely any knowledge of plants… In fact, I had a knack for killing nearly every plant I owned. But I was so determined to grow those tomatoes that I went down to my local Ace Hardware (lol) and bought both a tomato plant and a pepper plant.
I had three small planters that fit on the bar top my husband had built for our back balcony. In they went.
Honestly, it was the perfect place for them—even though it didn’t look like the picture-perfect gardens you see on Instagram. They had soil, plenty of sunlight, and water… the bare necessities for growing tomatoes. The only thing I really had to worry about were the squirrels—who, strangely enough, had no interest in the tomatoes that sprouted.
Weeks went by. I was religious about watering them. Eventually, they sprouted.
The first time I saw them was magnificent. It was a real “Wow—I did that” moment. It was also the moment I realized that you can grow something amazing with very little. The minimum gave me food I could eat. How beautiful is that?
I didn’t need a big garden, or even a backyard. I didn’t need raised beds or fancy soil. And by the way—they were delicious. Even though I only got about four of them. It was a small planter, okay? Haha.
Fast forward to today: I have dozens of beautiful tomatoes growing in my garden in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania, where we bought our second home. My neighbor had apparently started too many seedlings in preparation for tomato season and offered me some of her extras—six, to be exact.
As I type this, I’m realizing how full circle that is. The same vegetable I grew in my first home is now the first vegetable I’m growing in my second. And that same first vegetable I grew in my first home, is the very same vegetable that I can remember seeing grow in my life.
It’s the perfect thing to make into a pattern. Making a memory into something that can live on.
A few things these tomatoes have reminded me:
The fondest memories often live in the seemingly mundane
Life has a way of coming full circle, even when you’re not paying attention
Make time to sit in the beauty of nature
You don’t need a lot to make a big impact, and you definitely don’t need a lot to get started
The great Bonnie Christine reminded me that our biggest and best inspirations for art often come from our own experiences and lives.
Thank you, Bonnie, for that.
I’m home.
