I’m writing this because of my mother. Like so many things that mothers do, she put me on the first step towards writing. I say, “first step”, but what I mean is that she hurled me down the whole flight of stairs.
When I was four, nothing thrilled me more that the sound of my mother reading to me. Story time in the evening was my favourite time and I always did my best to interrupt her daily household duties to get her to read to me. So intrusive were my demands that she pulled me aside one day and said, “If you learn to read, you can have a story anytime you want and you’ll never be lonely. Books will be your friends for life.” Our reading sessions became more like lessons rather than straight forward entertainment and as the summer before kindergarten drew near, I was confident that I could get through more than Dr. Seuss on my own.
As the years have passed, she has been proven right. I’m never without a book, a journal and a pen. These tools offer me comfort when I think I’m about to lose it.
Today my mother and I are spending the afternoon in the kitchen. I’ve been pestering her to make my favourite Mexican soup all week. She reckons I’m better off learning how to do it on my own. So today, I’ll prep the ingredients and write everything down so that I can practice later in my own kitchen.
It seems her teaching style has not changed.
Today’s Prompt: Recipe for Success