25 November 2013
I often find myself comforted in the kitchen. Maybe it is that familiarity of old recipes or the monotony of constant stirring. I can measure with precision and double-check the steps of a recipe like I would in the laboratory as a pharmacist. I can create in this space and share those creations with my family and friends.
I've needed the comfort of my kitchen these past few days. We said good-bye to Sara on Friday night, in our home. She hung on to spend one more night with Dan by her side. She perked up enough to eat a few more treats, roam into the living room to sit on her favorite shag carpet and bark a few last barks. In her selfless way, Sara also showed us that she was ready to go with her sad eyes and labored breathing. We have shed so many tears and hope this hollow feeling fades a little in the days and weeks to come.
As I am prepping for Thanksgiving in my kitchen, I am reminded of her absence. No doggie under my feet, looking up with those big brown eyes. No pink tongue to clean up my spills. And no one to do pretty tricks for a scrap of food. I miss my four-legged partner.
I am very blessed to have my other partner-in-crime, Kiki, who will hopefully enjoy being in the kitchen with me some day. I hope she loves it as much as I do. I am sure that cooking with Kiki will force me to stray from those recipes and forget the rules (sometimes). There is so much to discover and learn in this space - measuring, counting, doing tasks in order, practicing patience, experience new smells and tastes.
So, while my comfort today is helping me to cope with the loss of our dog, someday it will comfort me in knowing that I am teaching my child important life lessons and skills that she will use forever.
This Thanksgiving, as I spend time in my kitchen, I will be thankful for the years of love and loyalty my first baby gave me. Sara taught me so much about being a good mother. I hope to continue sharpening those motherly skills for Kiki, both in and out of the kitchen.