Sometimes it’s not really the burned spinach that gets to you, but rather issues that accumulate BEFORE the smoky smell tells you something’s up. And yet that one last silly thing, the burned spinach, makes you feel inept - like you’re the one that’s scorched.
Then someone cares enough about your mistake at the stove (and maybe all the other mess-ups) to voluntarily scrub the blackened pan with the wire mesh thing until you can almost feel the scraping and rinsing deep down inside, like you’re the one that’s redeemed.
1 comment:
When I was in 6th grade, I burnt a pan of something. I don't remember what. I don't even remember mom telling me to watch the pan on the stove. Never tell me important things when I'm reading! I promise not to hear you. The house filled with smoke and mom came in the door panic stricken. I had to stop reading. The supper was thrown out. the pan was buried in the back yard. My family has not let me forget it to this day. There is no redemption if you just bury it in the back yard (or in your soul). Happy some one who cares was there for you.
Post a Comment