'Cause Pigs can Fly

So I’ve been cooking for a few years now and my family is used to my garlicky soup and oversalted potatoes and baking meltdowns. But like most other people, curfew/lockdown gave me the opportunity to cook more and try out more recipes. While I have always cooked, I rarely strayed away from the usual pasta, pies, and meats. My baking was usually limited to brownies and cookies and date cake. But I’ve spent the past two months at home like the rest of the world and I’ve been busy. For one, I was told to handle dinner every day. This made me realise how much effort goes into planning meals on a daily basis, especially with what you have at home. I don’t know how my mother remains sane after doing this for years. Anyway, back to the point. I’ve been cooking a lot and I’ve been posting pictures of what I make. But as I posted a picture of a pumpkin pecan pie a few days ago, I thought about how much is left unsaid in those pictures and captions. Added to this, I had a conversation with ...

I’ve been fucking up quite a bit in the last few weeks. Not in a major way. I’m still responsible. I ensure my safety in all situations. I associate with people I can trust. People I feel safe around. But there have been three or four times when I’ve forgotten to inform my mother about my whereabouts. This has resulted in her panicking, calling my father, and worrying about my safety. Of course, once I explain what went on to my mother, she has accepted my words as the truth and I appreciate that. I appreciate the fact that I can tell her if I stay over at a male friend’s house. Or if I stay up all night talking to someone. I think the fact that I’m honest about my relationship with these people (it’s never romantic or sexual) puts her mind at ease but there still is a lot that is said and accepted based solely on trust. And I’m grateful that I have a mother… that I have parents who trust that I will always do the right thing. Parents who will forgive me when I screw up. Pa...