So I cook

I’ve been cooking again.  Every time I find it hard to see ahead, I tend to go back to the kitchen and ransack my fridge for something that I can predict.  Learning how to cook much younger, I was told that the most important lesson for you to learn is how heat and meat dance together.  The amount of fire necessary for the meat to sizzle and sweat, a lesson I haven’t forgotten.  I know what would happen when I throw beef on the bbq.  Or mushrooms, tomatoes, or pineapples.

I believe someone is watching me from above as I cook sometimes.  I talk to my paternal grandmother and recently, my eldest aunt, when I cook.  I find that the time waiting I can say lots, as if the steam would carry my conversation up into the sky to them.  So beyond that comfort in predictability, cooking does for me what most people do when they pray.  I ask for guidance as I stir the noodles and stuff the hen.      

Lately, a lot has been happening to me.  With Steve, then my cousins, then my sister, then my mom, revolving through my daily life I haven’t had much of a chance to filter and really think about what is going to happen in the next step I take.  With doubts that I am slowly beginning to have about myself, I feel almost lost.  The first time in a few years now, I don’t see what is ahead or how I will navigate.  It almost seem impossible to get out of bed everyday cause I feel that much closer to the cliff and I have to make a leap soon. 

So I cook, longer and bigger meals.