Mother's Cooking

All those years ago, when I ate my mom's cooking everyday - at morning, afternoon and night - I never considered that there would come a day when I wouldn't be able to eat mom's food daily. Now, when I realize that those days may be gone forever, it is hard to accept. It is hard to accept that never again in my life will I have the days when every meal I eat will be cooked by my mom. It is something that's lost forever. I was not even aware, not even paying attention, when I was losing it!

When I was leaving home, I did realize that I would miss home food, but that was hardly the foremost thing in my mind. It was just a minor thought somewhere in the back of my mind. And I certainly did not think of it from the perspective that I would never be eating mom's food daily.

I know it is kind of selfish when the thing you miss most about your folks is the food they provided. But then, food was such a dependably constant thing in my life from the day I was born. Making me eat good food has been the most obvious, frequent and important way in which my mom (and other older folks at home) showed their love. Coming from a culture where hugs and kisses and obvious verbal expressions of love are not common, food took on much more of a significance. Sometimes, I have been so overwhelmed by attempts to stuff me with food, there have even been fights because of it. But in the long run, it's not the smothering and the fights I remember most. What I remember most is the total devotion and dependability that my mom put into the food she fed us.

When I was a kid, I was a really fussy eater. I had very specific preferences on what I would eat, what I would not eat, and on how it had to be prepared and cooked. I had very definite likes and dislikes. If anything was even slightly off, I would simply refuse to eat, causing a lot of grief to my mom. I never missed a chance to complain if I found an occasional piece of hair or small stone in the food. But all that changed when I got older, turned vegetarian, and most importantly, saw how it was in the homes of my friends. Then, I realized the value of the food I was provided at home, and I started to respect and relish it.

I noticed that in the homes of many friends, if their moms were not well or had something else to do, they simply let the kids fend for themselves with regards to food. I noticed that in many homes a fresh, hot breakfast was not really an everyday thing, not something to be taken for granted. People either had breakfast outside in hotels, or ate something like bread or something leftover from the previous night, or nothing at all.

In my house, it was totally different. My mother made sure that we never missed a meal. She literally felt hurt and sad if we missed a meal... or even if she merely felt that we did not eat enough for whatever reason. Regardless of her health or other circumstances, she made sure that our meals were taken care of. Even under the most trying circumstances, she tried to personally prepare our meals. Only if it was totally unavoidable did my mother let us eat outside or have somebody else (an aunt or a neighbor) provide food for us. No matter at what time I had to leave home in the morning, my mother would wake up earlier than me and make fresh, hot breakfast. She would either make me eat at home or pack the breakfast for me. I have seen this happen so consistently regardless of whether I had to leave home at 4 AM or 7 AM or 10 AM. If I was in a hurry and it looked like I might skip the breakfast, she would pick up the plate and walk behind me, literally feeding me while I got ready to go out! when I started working, and I had to leave home at around 7 AM, my mother not only prepared breakfast (and fed it to me on many a morning), she also packed my lunch. Imagine that! To woke up early in the morning and have both a hot breakfast and hot lunch ready by 7 AM!

Later on in life, when I thought about how my mother cooked everyday, cooking two or three times daily, the incredible amount of dedication and hardwork she must have put into it, I am simply overwhelmed. It is difficult to imagine myself (or anybody else) doing that day after day, for years and years. To be able to do that, and do that amidst all the fuss and complaints from an opinionated husband and three difficult kids, must have taken incredible love and devotion. I am sure that it's all that love and devotion which was mixed into the food my mom fed us, that has helped my family sustain through the ups and downs, which has turned us into relatively good human beings.

It's been almost four and half years since I left home and came to the US. I don't know when, if ever, I will get to eat my mother's food everyday. I don't know when I will even get to live under the same roof with my parents. I am sure that will happen someday. However, by then, it wouldn't be my mother's responsibility to cook everyday. I don't grudge her that. I think she has done more to us than many mothers do. However, I can't help thinking sometimes that it would be nice if I could just have another phase in my life when I would get to eat my mother's cooking daily. But, it still won't feel like the old days when I ate her food, totally secure about its continued availability, without a thought that one day I would miss that food!