Life: For the Love of Family

Posted: November 18, 2016 in life

This is a free-write non-fiction.

The first dish I ever learned to kinda cook, as a teenager, was home made biscuits. The kitchen was a disaster with flour everywhere: the floor, ceiling, mine and Mother’s faces. No space was left untouched by white unsifted, then sifted, flour from a humongous can that sat on the kitchen floor near the stove. Mother stood there and told me that I didn’t belong in a kitchen, that it would take too long to clean it all up.
So…at the dinner table that evening, my family were assembled around the square, antique-finished dining table talking about our day and eating. Nobody was touching my biscuits. (Guess not, when the biscuits were hard enough to knock a person out if you tossed one on the mark. Also known as “hard as a brick bat.”) My feelings were getting hurt and I spoke up and asked if anyone had tried my biscuits. Silent, scared and uncertain looks from one to the other circulated!
Bless his heart, Danny, my younger brother grabbed one biscuit and started taking bites. He would pause and look around the table after every bite and reach for the tea glass. Finally, he spoke and said he loved my biscuits and urged the rest of my family to try them. Sure enough, Daddy and Larry played along, knowing the biscuits were hard as a rock. Mother declined. 🙂
Gosh, that’s a memory of love, I think. After dinner, the remaining biscuits went promptly to the chicken yard. I sure felt sorry for those chickens, but so proud my family would eat my biscuits just to spare my feelings. I never cooked biscuits from scratch like that, again.
My Grandma Dickey’s biscuits were perfectly round every time and always had white tops–delicious. Mother’s biscuits were brown and soft on the inside. Both could cook anything so well with hardly anything to work with, at times.
I can honestly say that the one good thing I can cook is chicken and dressing–that’s one dish explained for those who cook dressing without  boiled chicken bits in it. Mother said she liked mine better than hers. She really meant that. Gosh I miss my family so much. It is more so around Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. The comfort and emotional support they gave me was always, always, always so very much heartfelt and appreciated. I never took their love for me for granted, not for one second.

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