Monday, October 20, 2014

His Dinner Plate

My emotions sway back and forth so effortlessly. I have no control over them!

Last night was my first attempt at meal prepping since my father passed. So I picked up where I left off two weeks ago and I started to prep. Cooking is such a stress reliever for me. I find it quite delightful. And my father ALWAYS appreciated my cooking. I glanced over at the stove and I couldn't help myself. I immediately ran to my room and cried hysterically.

My dad used to stand over the stove and watch me cook. He would lift the lids off the pots and pans and ask if he was getting any. He would comment on how wonderful it smelled and then he would make his way to his favorite chair at our dining room table. And he would sit there, anxiously, like a five year old awaiting a huge slice of cake.

I'd serve him a plate and his glass of water. And I'd watch him eat. When he was done I would pick up his plate and I would ask him if it was good. He always replied, "It was really good mija." I'd walk off with an ear to ear smile.

Last night I pictured him standing there and I put a plate aside for him either way. 

And just like that. .  my memories of him are memories of memories.

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