Food gives me a sense of hope and security. It represents something special to me and reminds me that everything will be okay. Growing up in a big family filled with hungry kids and young, struggling parents, our kitchen was never really packed with goods. It was a bonus to have anything extra to enjoy. I remember as a child, there would be weeks where all we had to eat was enough for two meals a day. No matter how hard times got, my parents would make it up to me and my siblings by the end of the week. Fridays were my favorite days because they would be the day our family had a sense of relief. We would go as a family down to a grocery store and splurge. It brings families together to enjoy what we have and never ask for more. Not having enough or having too much food makes me appreciate what my parents had to work for to be able to take care and feed us. Food puts my heart at ease knowing that we will make it to another day.
When I think about food, I think about my aunt. I think about playing in the backyard and helping out in the garden. I relive the harvesting months of my favorite greens and vegetables that I had a hand in growing. I remember my aunt and how hard she worked each year to provide the most that she could. I find myself thankful for for everything that I am blessed with.