the almost never ending green jar

I rested assured that the get-well-soon vibes you all sent my way played a major part in my recovery, just in time for our trip to watch the drummer perform and then return home with him until his next far off gig.

And this is the other secret I remembered in my misery--Mentholatum.

The large faded-label jar is one that I've had for over 30 years. Before I married, it comforted me through the stuffy noses and watery eyes of my teens. And a couple of days ago, when I wondered if I would be able to live through flights to Indiana this week if I was still clogged or leaking, I remembered my jar of Mentholatum. I asked Jr to try to find some for me and he returned to my side a few moments later with my trusty jar. He was amazed and a bit worried when I told him I had used it for almost all of my life. But I opened it and the familiar scent wafted up into my nose and I knew it was still viable.

However, it was almost gone, as you may be able to see in this photo:

Yep, that's all that remains of my favorite cold remedy. Wondering if it was really the right thing to do, I sent Jr to the local market to pick up a new supply of Mentholatum. He returned with not one, but two smaller jars of Mentholatum. While that seemed a bit excessive to me, I was pleased to note that I would likely not require another purchase in my lifetime. And now, I have the big, old, friendly jar by my bed, one of the smaller new jars in my purse, and the other new jar hanging around, sometimes on the bar, sometimes on the desk, and sometimes next to me on the sofa, in case I need it during a movie or favorite tv show, or heaven forbid, during the news. Because I'd certainly hate to miss a moment of that.

This is a view into one of the newly purchased and opened jars. While my old favorite friend jar will remain by my bedside until no menthol scent remains inside of it, there is something lovely, soothing, and even a bit hopeful about a new jar of Mentholatum.