Like I Was Saying…
Mom made me burritos for lunch today. She used some leftover jalapeños from a previous meal and boy was it spicy. As the jalapeño pinched my tongue, I asked mom, “are you mad?”
This got me to thinking: it’s been years since I’ve had mom cooking.
Growing up, Dad cooked. Mom had gotten a job in downtown El Paso, which about twenty miles from our house, but with traffic it took forty-five minutes to get home.
Dad’s job was more flexible and he’s was home by three in the afternoon. So dad started cooking dinner. If I remember correctly, Dad’s dinners started off pretty basic, but he got better over time.
By the time I left the house at eighteen, Dad had his system down pat. He could whip up a good meal in no time.
While off in college and living out in the world, my Tia Laura moved in and man could she cook. My Tia Laura had learned to cook from my grandma Sara. My grandmother had suffered a stroke, losing the ability to use her right hand. So Laura was literally her right hand.
So with my Tia Laura and Dad, mom didn’t cook as much. My Tia and Laura took over the kitchen. Sure, mom would help prepare the meals, but it was Tia Laura and dad that mainly did the cooking.
Of course, that all changed when Dad had his stroke and my Tia Laura’s health declined. In these latter years, when my Tia Laura cooked, it was like putting in the seasoned quarterback you knew could stay in the pocket after the two minute warning. She could do it, but she’d suffer for it.
Going home these last few years, it was odd to see mom behind the stove. But mom’s cooking wasn’t bad. Her meals were simple, but tasty.
Mom told the story where one of my cousins showed up and when she offered to make him something, he asked, “you know how to cook, Tia Ginny?”
He had the same impression I did, because like me, he had never seen my mom cook.
How little did we know.
Mom could cook, but as the saying goes, you don’t went to many cooks in the kitchen.
It took my brother and I a few years to get my mom to move to closer to my brother and I.
Mom had to settle somethings before she moved here.
It’s been weird since she’s moved here simply because I’m not use to it.
Back in the day, my grandfather use to show up almost everyday to our house. He was a fixture in my life growing up. Grandpa was old school, he’s waddle into the house, sit down and wait for either my mom or dad to serve him his coffee.
I’d always wanted that ease of relationship with either my mom or my dad. It would’ve been nice if it were both, but alas, life isn’t fair.
All this to say is that I’m glad I happily ate the burritos my mom made today and she’s one helluva of cook.