The kids and I have been rather busy with the start of the school year. For the most part, we have all adjusted to our new normal. We have days that we are more inwardly focused, but we all know that it is okay to have those kinds of days. I started back to work and started college classes on the same day and have been spending most of my time working on something. I do manage to get some breaks in and do fun things from time to time, so its not all work and no play.

While on one of my breaks from studying, I was telling some dear friends about an assignment that I had for my English Comp class. I needed to write about someone who influenced my life in some way and what it was that they taught me. I struggled with what to write for days, mainly because I was not sure if I was ready to share my story with my college life, yet. I started and restarted the paper with a different person a few time and just couldn't get it right. Finally, I gave in and this is what came about. I figured I would share it here, 1) because it is an easy way to share and 2) because I know there are several of you that will appreciate it.  (Not to brag--okay, I'm barging--I got an excellent paper remark and not much else--it was a perfect paper.

A Starting Point: Personal Narrative/Description Assignment

“When you’re cooking, remember that a recipe is just a starting point,” Adam stated. He was teaching our son, Marty how to make meatloaf. “A few changes can transform a recipe entirely.” My husband became more and more animated as he continued to list the endless possibilities of meatloaf enhancement.  I smiled as I unloaded the dishwasher. This was a speech I had heard so many times during the last twenty years.

My first cooking experience with Adam took place in the communal kitchen of a college dorm. He was attempting to woo me with a meal that involved a 99-cent box of pasta. This was the first time he informed me about his theory on recipes. He concluded his speech by saying “Sometimes when you add something unexpected to your cooking, it could end up being a pleasant surprise.” I blushed a little, knowing he was equating his thought about cooking to our budding relationship.

As young newlyweds, cooking was an affordable form of entertainment for us. We would stand shoulder to shoulder in the tiny kitchen of our apartment, preparing meals and talking about the events of our day. Weekly trips to the grocery store became adventurous outings for us as we explored the shelves for interesting new foods. Visits to the library meant stacks of cookbooks would come home with us. The hosts of Food Network shows became our cooking instructors. With a wealth of new ideas, opportunities to try new things were plentiful, as were the ever-present reminders of what Adam felt recipes were. Sometimes we would find the additions to our recipes to be delightful, like when we created a dish we called Fiesta Lasagna. Other experiments, olive soup for example, left a rather unpleasant taste in our mouths.

As our family grew, Adam began to do most of the cooking while I tended to the needs of our children. During the infant and toddler stages of our children’s lives, cooking alongside each other was a rare event. As soon as they were old enough, Marty and Poppy joined us in the kitchen and began their culinary education. There was a new level of joy in cooking with our little sous-chefs by our sides.

Life proved to be a lot like cooking, it brought our family enjoyable surprises and some experiences we wish we could forget.  Thankfully all the cooking adaptations we had made over the years taught us to be flexible in all areas of life. When Adam began to lose his eye sight, we made a few small adjustments to make life work. His failing kidneys brought on more changes, but we adapted just fine. Being diabetic for most of his life was taking a toll on his body. Each new health issue created greater problems and required the kids and I to help Adam with his daily needs.

The night Marty made his first meatloaf, he went with the delicious choice of a barbeque glaze. For dessert, we took a trip to the emergency room. Adam had a lingering case of heart burn that turned out to be the beginning stages of a heart attack. A complicated surgery was followed by the need to airlift him to Rochester, Minnesota. After many failed attempts to improve his quality of life, we came to the difficult conclusion that it was time to say good bye.

 

The loss of a key ingredient in our family has transformed our lives into something entirely different, creating a new starting point for us. When I think about the lesson Adam was really teaching me all these years, I smile. I am grateful that he showed me that change, though sometimes unpleasant, can end up being okay.