Sometimes I am just at a loss. At a loss for peace. At a loss for reason. At a loss for something brilliant to say. At a loss to comfort someone in need.
At a loss.
Most of my days are spent in comfort, emotionally content. But sometimes I feel like I could crawl right out of my skin. I don’t sleep well. I have dumb mind games I play all on my own. Really. It’s not fun.
So, is it any wonder that cooking gives me comfort during this whole uncomfortable process? Absolutely not.
Finding peace of mind in a kitchen has always been my saving grace. With my life full of deep concern and consequence, tonight I needed to hunker down as the sun sets quickly due to the recent time change. With the warmth of the oven, it sets the house aglow. A few candles lit early lend some light. I finally feel at peace. Warm and safe.
The aromas of oven baked chicken and potatoes lend themselves well. Throwing a quick salad together as Dirk walks in the door from a victorious round of squash at the club, we are ready to eat. We pour ourselves a glass of wine as we sit down to our simple dinner and toast our day.
We speak little this night, noshing on a crisp chicken flavored with oregano and parmesan. Fresh chives from the garden, butter and sour cream cradle the potatoes. We both have endured high fueled days of late. The early evening sky, paired with the warm foods and candlelight set us both just right.
We leave our cozy kitchen to fetch a ball with our beloved dog Shadow, yet even he senses the quick darkness, the need to venture back inside to the warm lights and smells of a lingering meal. As I gaze into the living room from my kitchen table, I see my two golden boys. One, settling into his spot on the couch, his brown eyes content, ready to drift into his evening dreams. The other, finishing a few tasks online. Our favorite songs pouring out of the stereo and fill the air.
My daily rituals of food continue. Shop. Plan. Cook. Feed. Nourish.
And I don’t doubt, the importance of it all.