December 29, 2007

Cooking with Mom today. She says she remembers teaching me to cook when she was little.She misses those days. I miss them too. It's weird knowing that they'll never be again. Maybe someday I'll have a son, and I'll teach him how to cook. Maybe I'll take him to his grandma's house and she'll teach him some more. We were supposed to watch a movie together after cooking, but Mom and Dad fell asleep halfway through. I don't think they have ever made it through an entire movie as long as I've known them. They were holding hands. I want to marry a woman like my Mom. I've heard that's how it works anyway. A man and a woman have a baby. If it's a boy, he grows up to be just like his father, and marries a woman like his mother. That used to scare me. I used to think that if I became like my father (or even like my mother) I would be a failure, because I needed to be myself. I didn't want to marry someone like my mother. I wanted to pick her for myself. I don't think I care about individuality anymore, though. I think I'd rather look at the two of them, asleep on the couch, asleep holding hands, grey haired and wrinkled, pot bellied and smiling. I can't even think about all the things about my Dad that make me angry. He works all day for her. She works all day for him. He fixes her cupboards, she fixes his dinner. He holds her hand. She falls asleep in his arms. All I can think is "Dad, you're pretty lucky to find a woman to love you for the rest of your life, and fall asleep holding your hand." I'd be really lucky if I become my Dad. I'd be really lucky if I marry a woman like my Mom. I want to marry a woman like my Mom.