Never Cried Over Pasta
Until today. It didn't even occur to me. Today is Saturday and I finished work a bit early, around 4 pm, allowing me enough time to stop at the store and make dinner- not just put something together, but actually cook. Make real dinner. I opted to make a big pot of pasta sauce with Italian sausage. I malliardized the onions, added fresh garlic, then assembled the pasta sauce that my mom taught me how to make years ago. Then it hit me. She's gone. The smell is here, the same thoughtful assembly of ingredients in the right proportions and right order was here, but she's gone. My kitchen smelled like her kitchen and I crashed. As a kid I learned how to cook from my mother. She was really good, good at a gut instinct for what to add and in which proportions. I guess that is where I get it from. When I was in Cub Scouts part of the badge requirement was to learn how to set a table and how to assist with serving a meal. I learned that stuff from my parents. Dinne