Cuisine

i know how to cook.

i watched my father learn for years
after my mother kindly asked him to leave.

i watched him go
from dirt in the bottom of bowls
to succulent meals made with patience,
practice, and respect.

the questions i have,
are only technicalities.

i know what finished looks like
in the bottom of the pan,
know what colour the peppers ripe to,
what smell the mix should have.

my father says:
maybe this disease is a blessing in disguise,
(i've never known myself so well,
never been able to enjoy waiting,
never cooked a meal so great in my life).

he's right.
these days he'd filled with patience, practice
and respect. and when we come home,
he's usually relaxing with a book or binoculars
at the window,
with a meal prepared to sautee in seconds.

bought me a blender so i could learn the easy way,
but i know how to cook, when i want to.