Conversations with other widows (still a term I have trouble saying or writing) always leads me to long talks with myself. I know that sounds odd, but last night I got into a conversation with a woman who talked about her life with her husband and her life without him…now.
She said she’s so different now, compared to the things they used to do together as a couple. She talked about how she used to cook so much. Meals were well balanced and planned out and they would eat together because that was part of being a couple. She hardly steps into the kitchen now. She certainly doesn’t cook except to do fun things with her grandkids. She tries to eat well, but admits to falling into bad habits and then self-corrects and ‘gets healthy’ again. But it’s a struggle because meals that were once fun and anticipated and made for quality time with a guy she was happy to hang around, just wasn’t there anymore.
So of course that got me to thinking about how over the past almost 9 years now, my kitchen habits have changed too. I don’t make the things that were a part of ‘our menu’ over the years. Every once in a while, I’ll remember something I used to make and prepare it, but then I have this one dish staring at me from the refrigerator for the entire week and I wonder why I bothered to make it? I never had that problem with Leroy in the house. He appreciated the cook and the cooking.
Now, I’m basically a salad girl or a simple one pot, one portion cook.
Do I miss cooking? Sometimes.
I miss who I used to cook for, the most.