It's been quite a while since I have written on this blog. So much has happened in between the time frame, which made it difficult to keep up with all of my small ventures of cooking. Although, I have been cooking, learning, and trying to keep up with so many other important issues, made it quite difficult to write. And sometimes one just has to take a sabbatical from the rhetoric of these creative spaces, to seek out what one truly wishes in life. Since cooking is a past time for me, and huge part of my life, I may visit every now and then to place something that would be important to carry on the history of my family, which is my American cuisine. Enjoy this blog moment!
I wanted to share a small venture visiting my parent's home. (I still call it their home because of the family's imprint between those walls). A "sister"-friend I grew up with called and asked me to come by and recreate a food memory. Food memories can be quite fun!! It reminds us of the good times around the kitchen table having those great moments which my father created with my mother. Family and friends always came by.
She began with the conversation, please come by and help me make some Chile Rellenos, a delicious traditional Mexican dish. As we spoke on the phone, the night before I arrived, she teared up while talking to me. She mentioned that her mother liked her, but my mother loved her. She also mentioned, that my parents always made her feel welcomed at home. My parents would always keep the door open for neighbors, family and friends. They were just like that, quite friendly. So I decided to bake a cake, after receiving phone calls from my two sons. I was so excited to hear from them. It made my day to hear from them, their lives are quite busy. We talked about how she remembered certain events that took place while Mama was in the kitchen, the heart of the home was always the kitchen where I grew up. How we would laugh with our mother. "Mama" was always light-hearted in our conversations which made it nice to be around after all the chaos in the world. Visiting their home, was nice hen it was quiet and when it was just us "girls". Mama really did love Toni. Toni treated her like her favorite elder, and Mama always treated her like a daughter. They were great neighbors.
Toni, takes things personal when things have changed. She misses the parties and events, but mostly the cooking which was made with a whole lot of love. I felt this time, I needed to go and visit with her and perhaps between our visit we could find some comfort. Toni is also very ill. She is now in a wheelchair, which breaks my heart to see her in such condition. It may anger me a bit as well. Perhaps its the house she inherited from her father, and the that special love she has always received. Or perhaps its because deep down she has a generous heart. I'm my own opinion she is boss. (lol) For she was very much loved by my mother. And I get it more so now then before. She especially loved my mother's homemade corn tortillas slathered with lots of butter.
During my visit, I'm able to see my parents house which has been completely renovated and converted...much more spacious, obtained by a new owner. The house still feels warm and filled with love. I saw a man about my age, sitting and drinking his beer. Why is Budweiser so common? Anyway, his dog was barking at me, as though to say, "come over and say hi". So I spoke back, "Are you barking at me?". The man living there spake and said "hi". So I made a step in comfort to approach. He was quite kind to me. I told him it was the house I grew up in. Now mind you, Toni does not like this man for personal reasons. But I have no judgement. I spoke to him and we introduced ourselves. (Its funny how at times we don't like our own neighbors, and yet find acquaintance to other's neighbors). He may of been a bit flighty, but he was still very kind to allow me to see the new renovations on the inside. He mentioned he was from New Jersey. Wow, I thought, what the heck was he doing here? So I didn't ask. My objective was to see the inside of the house, to find some type of solace perhaps or to cure my curiosity. What made it so difficult there? All I know is that I truly miss my parents so much, words often can not express how much. We continued to talk.
Bill, the owner in my my parents home, said he love to research history, as the house was filled with so many nice antiques and memories. The house was quite open and the walls were all redone. He asked if the entrance use to be a bedroom. I told him when we first moved "here" it was, then my father made it into a living room to connect the the overflow of another living room. The doorway and wall which was now open between the living room and the kitchen was now open. I always thought it would look nice to see it open the way it was. And I was welcome to enter into the kitchen, I saw that beautiful window where I would always find my mother washing dishes after making a meal piercing glances out of the window. It made me feel like I was at home. I would watch my mother wash he dishes attentively, as she would careful scrub each dish and then place them on the dish rack. I cherished those moments. Mama was so careful to make sure each dish was clean. The cabinets had changed to these beautifully stained gorgeous cabinets with silver handled. The counters were now a tasteful speckled granite. It was so breathtaking. No to say the least about the windows, which I skipped were all redone with white shutters. They were absolutely gorgeous. Everything that I saw was so beautifully done. I didn't even mind all of the furs that were laying around the house, trying to seek out corners. "This was my parents beautiful home", I thought. How breathtaking it was to see the beautiful work that was completed which my father wanted so much.
My father was so proud of his work he had done with the house, yet the house became a work of art as I walked through the new carpets and wood floors. I though thought to myself, "my father has to be happy here". (I smile). If he is still here. The door way was new to the bathroom. The toilet was re-positioned into what use to be vanity and closet. The bathtub was now up scaled to match the re-positioned sink.which was now next to the tub. Absolutely amazing! The original doorway was sealed of giving access only through my father's room, which I had thought would of been better. But I never suggested my father's working in this.....I just enjoyed being there.
My mother's bathroom was now the main bathroom or the guests. It too had been completely renovated. There was now a shower! How in the heck did they fit a shower in that small tiny room which I though could only be a sink and toilet. By taking the closet that my father built and tearing down the wall and opening it up. At this point I am thrilled to see my mother's new bathroom. I think my father would of been so proud. It was just amazing to see my parents home again in such a beautiful condition. The room my father had added was still the same and had the same closet only renovated. (No panels whatsoever). All the panels were gone. I think we hated those panels, but we all became use to them because they were my father's work of art. But it was refreshing to see the panels gone. (Sorry dad). As we continued to talk I found my room was still the same. The room in which I grew up in. Yeah, those were some memories alright. I almost hated that room. It was the room where my mother decided to sleep after well moved out. But when I saw it empty, It reminded me of my room and how crowded it was with us three sleeping in it, me and my tow sisters, who I just couldn't stand half the time. They weren't so kind to me. But those are just memories, thank goodness I don't have to sleep with them anymore.
As we came to the back of the house, the enclosed porch was gone and made into an open space where one could sit and stare at the stars instead. There was a out door porch instead to match the front type of balcony. The wood was added to enhance the new home and match its decor. I only wish I was there when the architects came. The color of the new house was now a warm grey-blue color. Before it was a light green color. The room which was once a bedroom after I came to live with my son after my first divorce, was now a type of shed or storage. It became my parents ironing room for a long time. Its so funny how people and couples can live int here home for a lifetime, and its how it becomes a home filled with memories, good and bad. I wonder if my parents sit on that new added porch with the new chairs, which was once their work porch that held a freezer, sink, washer and dryer int hat space. And finally the glorious trees spoke of my mother! The gazebo that my cousins had built was still there along with some of the garden, trees, grapevines which my father had planted. But that glorious Persimmon tree spoke so loudly as though it was saying, "I'm still here". The man had already cut down my father's orange tree, and was contemplating cutting down that beautiful Persimmon tree? I looked at him in frantic as he was telling me that he was thinking of keeping it.( I hope so). I can't help but think that the tree represents my mother who was the whole purpose of having this house. Before she passed away, while in the many hospitals, she kept asking, "who's in the house?" We would answer, "no one". It was so hard and tragic to lose our parents home. It was such a huge lose for me and the other family members. And it was most difficult for my brother. I had asked (begged) my parents to give the house to him. But my father wanted to be fair. But it never turns out to be fair, if one doesn't pass down something that is greatly cherished. It only prolongs the pain of missing something deeply.
I left my number with the man who is now obtaining my parent's home and said I could come by if I chose too. He also mentioned he wanted to sell it. I hope he doesn't, I sort of like him, he seems funny and somewhat friendly. I just hope he doesn't cut down my mother's favorite tree, when she made so many delicious persimmon cookies for my father.
