My youngest son, from out of the blue, announced that come Easter Sunday, he would like it to be his turn at preparing our share of the yearly Easter potluck lunch at the fam compound, by cooking his new dish and specialty of macaroni with tuna. A pasta addict like most of his cousins, he had just recently learned how to make his own versions of several pasta preps that his mom loves to make for us.
As a matter of fact, a few days before the actual date, he served up a trial version just for us three and voila, his hot and spicy dish was born! He’s now even contemplating of serving up another batch to his close friends and classmates once they are all finished with their thesis defense next month.
Now, I know these may be little everyday things that slip us by, but for some of us old folkies, they mean a lot. Whenever any of our kids display thoughtfulness or empathy, even in minute form, there is a certain relishing thought that, we have actually done something right in our guidance. A chest-beating moment for parents, if you will, for passing the torch or knowledge, so to speak, a matchstick at a time.
Going back to cooking, I for one, feel safe in the thought that at least he has learned one survival skill. His older brother is an artist and an expert when it comes to conjuring up delicious vegan meals for himself; thus proving that cooking is an art form meant to please oneself but mostly others. After all, what is cooking without empathy? Haha.
I once knew of a mother who had said ‘I do not want my sons to be hungry so I am going to teach them how to cook, in case they marry someone who doesn’t.’ Nope, not inferring to my mom, God bless her, but that really doesn’t matter here because all moms think like that I guess.
These delightful transitions, as I call them, seem to increase as we grow older, and I am not one to complain. (It could also be that as one gets older, the keener they become, turning into sentimental old farts who put mushy meanings into everything.) However, these milestones come whether we like it or not, and by just being genuinely happy for others, we make them all the more memorable.
For one, our family compound has now, after a long drought, a loadful of new babies that will be running around by the time we get to Easter next year. I am already anticipating what a lively Sunday egg-hunt that is going to be. I’m also wondering what my son is going to cook up next.
