I stepped out into the garden this morning and found myself smiling at our green bean plants. This is the very first year we've grown green beans in our garden, and I'm delighted that they're actually producing.

As I picked a handful of beans, my thoughts drifted back to my grandparents' farm in Missouri. Some of my favorite childhood memories are of spending summers with Grandpa and Grandma Jones. I can still picture myself out in the fields with Grandpa, picking green beans under the summer sun. Later, we'd carry our harvest inside, where Grandma and I would spend the afternoon snapping beans around the kitchen table.

The kitchen was always warm and sticky from the summer heat. Fans hummed in the corners, soap operas played softly on a small television, and our hands stayed busy while conversation came and went. At the time, it felt ordinary. Looking back, I realize those simple moments were some of life's greatest gifts.

I'm grateful my parents made it a priority to get us from New Jersey—and later North Carolina—to Missouri so we could spend time with family and experience life on the farm. Those visits planted seeds that have stayed with me for decades.

Every seed I tuck into the earth and every harvest, whether it's abundant or modest, reminds me of Grandpa and Grandma Jones. The garden gives me vegetables to bring to the table, but it also gives me something even more valuable: a connection to the people and memories that helped shape who I am.