mushrooms: a letter

Dear Pepa-

I made sautéed mushrooms today. The mushrooms were on their last legs, so I figured it was the best way to finish them up. But we didn’t have any of the secret ingredient at the house today, so they didn’t taste quite the same.

As soon as the smell rose up from the stove, I felt the tears forming. It’s been a while since I cried about you.

Sometimes I don’t realize how much you’ve missed. How much we’ve all grown and changed. How many times we’ve made those mushrooms without you.

Did I want to be a journalist then? I can’t even remember myself. I still had braces, that I remember. I hated those things.

I hadn’t travelled back then, not out of the country at least. Now I’ve been overseas four times. In Spain they were fascinated by my hair. I though you’d appreciate that.

You didn’t get to be there for high school. You missed cheerleading, and plays, and proms, and getting rid of those blasted braces. I wish you could have been there during my college decision, if only to crack a joke every now and then.

I remember crying the night of graduation when I hugged Grana because you weren’t there to hug me, too. I miss your hugs.

You would have liked Samford. I know you would have liked any place that I loved, but I think you would have really liked Samford (even if they are the Bulldogs). I did so much there you never got to see. It hurts to think about how much I grew in that time and everything you didn’t get to be there for.

Grana says she knows you’re proud of me. What I wouldn’t give to have you tell me yourself.

What saddens me most is realizing that the edges of my memories of you have begun to fade. I can’t remember everything I used to, and I don’t want to lose what I have left. The mushrooms are sometimes the most direct link I have.

You know, we call them sautéed mushrooms, but it isn’t actually sautéing the way we cook them. Emily started cooking them more traditionally, in a frying pan instead of a pot, but I’ve never been able to switch.

I know the way you always cooked them. Using something else…I just can’t.

Somehow, eight years hasn’t made it much easier.

I just needed to tell you this today.

I miss you. And I love you.

-Your #1 brat


One thought on “mushrooms: a letter

  1. Pingback: hey vacay | various and sundry

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