I love feeling normal. Well...as normal as one can be when bald and walking about with a picc line hanging out of one's arm. There have been moments during the last couple of days when I forgot that I had cancer. Those moments were when I was busy in the kitchen with my four year old, making pancakes and preserving our chillies and tomatoes. Cooking is such a joy, so incredibly satisfying...good for the soul as well as the belly!
I love that Harry has developed a passion for cooking. He wears his little paper chef's hat, pulls up a chair and gets stuck in with such gusto. Yesterday, while stirring a pot of tomato sauce he turned and said to me, "Mummy, you know that I'm a real chef don't you!". And indeed he is...a true foodie...from patch to plate he invests himself, understanding what it is to patiently wait for seeds to germinate into seedlings, wait for the rain to fall, wait for trees and bushes to bear fruit, wait for veges to fatten and ripen in the sun. The pride that glows from his face when he has harvested a crop that he has helped plant and grow is precious.
I have always hoped to raise my kids with a healthy knowledge of food and a passion for making beautiful meals to share with loved ones. I think we're heading in the right direction.
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