Modern Hill Woman

This past week has been a rough one. I had a doctor visit and wasn’t told exactly what I wanted to hear and have started on a medicine that I took in the past that made me sleep a lot. Then I got a cold that I couldn’t shake. I wasn’t sure if I felt bad from the cold or from the medicine.

Then a dear old friend died. I’ve cooked for that old friend lots of times throughout the years and boy, could she eat! She always stayed fit and trim and must have had a revved up metabolism. The first time she came to our house I made a huge plate of chicken wings along with a lot of other food. I brought out the wings, sat them on the table in front of her, and went in the house to get more food. By the time I got back, she had eaten a third of the wings. I informed her that they were for all of us, but she said “Oh! I thought they were all for me.” We never let her forget about that first meeting and laughed about it often. If only I could cook for her one more time.

Cooking is my love language. If I have a sick kid, grandkid, or husband, food is the first thing I offer to help them recover. When we were ill as kids, daddy would bring home 7-Up and Fritos. After we were on the mend, mom would offer homemade tomato juice and French fries with lots of salt. Those foods may not have been the best ones for us, but to this day that’s what I need to make me well.

Even when I’m feeling out of sorts cooking is one thing I can still do. When I was recovering from brain surgery 13 years ago, I felt like doing nothing. I was on a lot of medications, unwell and emotional, but I could still stand in front of the stove and prep meals for the whole week. I was in control of that one thing.

So if you see me making dozens of jars of jelly or baking numerous cakes, it may just be therapy for me, something I can control. The ritual of the jelly making and the strict rules that must be followed for success, affirms that I’m in charge. Focusing on the equations of a recipe proves that today my mind is focused.

For the first few hours of this morning I felt befuddled and confused from a medication l haven’t adjusted to, and wondered how in the world I was going to get through this day. I went outside and walked around, breathing in the fresh air, praying for help. Then I came inside and started cooking for a meeting I’m hosting tonight. There will be three kinds of soup, and two kinds of bread and a cake and it will all be made with love to feed to my friends.

The secret ingredient is always love.