Love-Bites

         When my Mom shredded cheese on the grater back when I was a kid living at home, there was always that bit of cheese left over – you know, that chunk of cheese that if you keep shredding may get your finger too close and cause injury, but the chunk is too big to really put into the dish that the shredded cheese is going into. So Mom had this habit of giving that bit of cheese to whoever was nearby- usually me in the television room resting before being summoned to set the table or make the salad.

         That bit of cheese was always so good! (Mom also did this with leftover tuna fish when she made the sandwiches on Thursday nights for lunches at school on Friday – the tuna/mayo mix might have not enough for a sandwich leftover, but too much to throw out, so Mom would spread it on crackers and oh how good tuna on crackers tasted in front of the TV!)

         Last week I was grating cheese for taco salads.  Usually I put that last unshredded chunk of cheese into the refried beans I have on the stove, or I just throw it into one of the salads. But Mike was home. He was sitting in his chair in the living room, in the dark, listening to NPR as he likes to do when he gets home and the sun goes down. And as I finished shredding the cheese, I took that last chunk and went into the living room with it – I pressed the cheese to his lips, and Mike got a little nervous – it was dark, and I was forcing something on him that he could not see! When he realized it was cheese, he ate it and enjoyed it very much – he made noises to let me know. Later in the week, I repeated the gesture, again with cheese, although I don’t recall what was being made. Again, Mike liked it very much.

         I got to thinking about my Mom and the cheese and the tuna and crackers and how small things can get to be so fondly remembered.

         Yesterday morning, Mike and I sat in the dark living room together, he on his phone and I on my ipad and listening to NPR. Then Mike decided to make waffles for breakfast, so he went to the kitchen. A minute or so later, I heard Mike make a slight cheer, and he walked into the dark living room and pressed something to my lips. I was nervous because I did not know what he was expecting me to eat. Then I realized it was a bite-sized bit of pumpkin pie!  Oh gosh did that taste good right then!

         Just two days of training with the cheese, and Mike is feeding me pumpkin pie for breakfast! Life is good. Thanks Mom!

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