I said earlier that I had no food news to write about.
I still don't, but I wanted to share a memory that flooded over me while I was preparing myself a quick dinner before my evening class.
I was making scrambled eggs and had bread toasting in the oven. My mom used to make "breakfast for dinner" when we had all had a long day and dinner needed to be simple and satisfying. Scrambled eggs were a staple. She would mix in some cheese, salt, and pepper. Nothing fancy. Served with toast and jam, this meal brings me back to my childhood, which is retreating faster and faster into the past.
I almost came to tears over the frying pan as the eggs turned golden. Maybe it was the Norah Jones playing on my iPod, but the poignancy of such a simple, wholesome food that reminds me of the warmth and care of my mother gave me a knot in my stomach.
I ate my eggs, alone at the table, with homemade bread. I could have been twelve years old again, my sister sitting next to me putting jam on her eggs.
I love you, mom, and all the memories you've given me.
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