Remembering in Imperfection

Every so often I have those moments where its laugh, or…well, Im not sure what. Last night was one of them. A long day, turning into a long night, it was almost 10pm and none of the kids had eaten, Josh was pissed, Dylans still sick, and Madison was busy with homework. I attempted to make dinner. After a long debate over who wanted what and why, I decided to do grilled cheese, fully knowing that if there is ONE thing I can NOT do, its grilled cheese. “Its simple” they say. And everyone has their own version on how to do it, and of course, every ones is perfect and fool proof. I have yet to find a fool proof version. And I have tried. Many.

Last night was no exception. I dished the kids up, and sat down to eat my own, when I started laughing. Thankfully the kids couldn’t see. Or else they might have checked me in.

The last time I think I made grilled cheese was when Molly was alive. And that girl would get pissed. Because I could never make it right. If there was one thing she liked more than anything it was a good grilled cheese, and I could not get it. I tried, I tried many times. And failed, many times.

I sat there last night, staring at what was suppose to be a grilled cheese…Attempting another fool proof idea, melting the cheese on bread in the oven and then attempting to grill in oil because well, it was the next best thing since we had no butter resulting in very dry, with soggy areas. No taste. Nothing. And I laughed. Because I wondered what she would have done. Knowing that she most likely would have taken matters into her own hands by now, showing me how its done, and no longer having to settle for another attempt at what was supposed to be a grilled cheese.

She would have no longer had to rely on others to do something she so badly wanted to do. She would have been able to do it herself, and get it done the right way. And it would have been one less thing to argue over. And most likely would have left me wondering when she had taken over that area of life.

But instead…I stared at a hard piece of bread, and laughed. Remembering all the times we would butt heads over just that. And then I wrote that off as another “Useless” way of making a grilled cheese. One day, I might get it right. But until that day comes, I will smile and remember her. And wonder, just how many other things she would have been doing…just right.


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