I find in most normally functioning families, the members have a distinguishing role or legacy or skill of some kind. Like, he's the smart one. Or, he's the religious one. Or...she's the glue that helps the fam together. Or, she's the savvy one, so she's the Power of Attorney. In my family, that system went something like this: My dad was The Dad. Cantankerous, crotchety, and especially tight with daughters' curfew times. Also, not a fan of driving in Big Cities. My mom was the long-suffering, patient, reserved one. My brother was the baby, the one who got away with murder, the namesake, and also, Frosty Hoarder. Me? My legacy? The Ruiner of Remote Controls. No lie. Although I've repressed the memories, my parents claim I destroyed at least two remotes in my tenure as Child Under The Roof. Remote #1: milk spillage; Remote #2: applesauce spillage. So, now you see why my younger brother was the favorite. Anyway, t...
Beautiful! You clearly put a lot of love into that food - it was blessed!
ReplyDelete