MY BEARS
Sangeeta Sharma
If I had my own family, we would be a family of cooks. We would sit at the dinner table at least once a week and surprise each other with delights, concocted with love.
Often and in between. The dishes we’d exchange across houses and between families. The delicacies. The soul food of all kinds and all degrees of hot, cold, spicy and microwave ready.
We trade in tupperware. Boxes and pans and the odd ceramic dish. “Bring it back to me later”. This is the language we speak with each other.
In between childish wars, spats and giggles - food. We love our food, it brings us all together and when one of us takes too much too often, tears us apart.
I don’t like fighting over food. I hate it. I find it distasteful.
I have not created the kitchen, the table, the mini chefs. It feels weird and I’m still working my way towards a kitchen I consider optimal.
I do love to cook.
And I also like to eat what I’ve cooked.
I have plenty of tupperware to share.
Take out boxes falling out of everywhere. For one. To go. I eat alone.
Don’t make me fight you for my food you f$!&*!