Post by @xenotar

It’s just the two of us and the cats here at home. I enjoy cooking for her, and today—Friday—I had the chance to do just that. She’s teaching late at the technical school today and will come home hungry. As I cook, I find myself thinking about my father; he was a great cook (as was my mother), whereas I wasn't exactly a star pupil. My parents were taken from me far too soon—a truck accident on the highway claimed their lives when I was nineteen. Time went by—college, grad school—and it was only after I’d achieved some financial stability that the desire to cook truly "sprouted" in me; I haven't stopped since. I learned almost everything I know from them (albeit somewhat haphazardly) and have been refining my skills ever since. My wife really enjoys my cooking, but if my father were here, he’d surely correct me here and there: "You forgot this," or "That part should be done this way." I’ve lived much longer than they did, yet the certainty that I still had so much to learn from them has never left me. I can only be grateful—immensely grateful—for the brief nineteen years I got to spend with them (and regret not writing down the recipe for that roast lamb seasoning and so much else; now, I just try to imitate it).