I remember so much from my life having to do with food. When
I was young I would get upset because my older brother would always get to do
more than me. I didn’t see why when I was younger but I do now. Pluses not
being able to see over the stove helped my mom make her decision. If I cued do
anything I would want to go bake to myself and say “it’s going to be ok, that I’ll
have my many days in the kitchen. Even days were all I would want to do is sit
down or put my feet up.”
Once I got to the age of seeing over the stove and knowing
not to touch it when it’s on, my mother finely let me cook. One of the first
things she tote me to make was boxed brownies. They would always come out the
same, hard and dry like any other brownie. But I thought they were the best
thing in the world.
As I grew my mother would let me cook even more. It got to
the point to where if she didn’t want to cook she would tell me I cued. Being so
young I thought this meant that she wanted me to grow in the field of cooking
when it really meant that she would want to sit down with her feet up.
Sadly in a blink of an eye she had to sit down with her feet
up all of the time. I started to cook all of the time and was learning to love
it, even though my feet where telling me otherwise. I started to make brownies
all of the time for my family. They got much better to the point of my brother
even bragging to his friends about them. Saying I knew gust how to make them so
that even after sitting out all night they would still be gooey in the morning.
I like to joke around and say that’s how I got my second brother. I know he
really isn’t my brother, but he was always over at the house on the weekends
and always wanted to have brownies.
After my mother passed I became very depressed. I wouldn’t want
to do a thing. That is until I would hear my dad in the kitchen cooking. I cued
hear the sizzling sound of butter in a hot pan, about to become fajitas all the
way down the hall where I hide in my room. The feeling of taking nothing and
making something. I missed it. I knew I couldn’t live without it. Now I cook at
least once a day. But my favorites are the midnight calls. Where my two
brothers will come home with a box of brownie mix telling me I had no choice
but to make them baronies. On the outside I was always wining saying I didn’t want
to, but on the inside I loved the fact that I was able to make something that
my brothers loved.