Though I have had some pretty good meals in my life, there was one memorable meal that still lingering in my mind. During our transit at Belgium airport we went to the restaurant to eat and the food menu was completely foreign to me, so I hardly chose a food item. The only familiar food was sandwich, so I put in an order for it. While waiting for the food, we spent most of the time talking about everything that took place in the flight and things we saw for the first time, and all the while the aroma of the food being made kept my nose engrossed. When it was food time and our order was served, I started eating hastily as if I could finish the huge sandwich.
From time to time my grandpa would stop to visit and take us to his ranch; those were the good old days. My relationship with my grandfather was unique in a way, sometimes he would be there and sometimes he we would not. He was the closest thing I had to having a grandpa and so I loved him regardless of his absence in my life. I felt no need to judge him and none to question him for the choices he made, he was the father of my father; therefore, I respected him. Thinking back, I remember when he use to take us fishing that must have been ten years ago.
As we walk into the house it hits you like a brick wall, the smell, that wonderful smell. It smells as if god himself had come down from heaven and cooked the most wonderful food you could ever imagine. My mouth began to water like a dog waiting for a treat. The whole house is filled with this lofting scent of all different kinds of food from homemade cookies to brownies and my favorite, homemade caramel corn! There is a great vibe in my aunt and
Some of my most notable memories take form as early morning breakfasts. Most days I’d eat a variation of cereal, yogurt, or maybe some fruit. But once in a while, there’d special morning where my Dad cooked up a breakfast. Now, the meal itself had little notability; sometimes there were eggs, sometimes whole-wheat popovers, sometimes toast. What really made those breakfasts special, though, were the stories.
Every year we made our own wish lists, decorating them in green and red stickers. Although, for the last few years, all we wanted was one simple gift, in our opinion. It was a puppy. A puppy that would run around in our house and backyard, tennis ball stuffed in his mouth and the look of joy on his cute puppy dog face. It was the only thing I truly ever wanted, however my parents continued to stress that is was too much of a responsibility since my brother and I were at a fairly young age.
Food pantries seem to become more popular and many of us take time to thank God for all we have been blessed with. I am so happy that Americans have continued with traditional ways of celebrating thanksgiving. Although we have added our own twist on the day such as football and chocolate cream pie, these traditions all follow the same original themes of thanksgiving; recreational activities, food and thankfulness. If the pilgrims and Wampanoag tribe members saw
I used to be excited to pack up some of my belongings and take the trip up there with the family, I loved road trips, but this was the first time I lost that excitement and enthusiasm. Now I was aimlessly going through my list of things to bring and half-heartedly packing my suitcase. I was just going through the motions of life and slowly meandering around the house. As I was going through the kitchen, grabbing something to eat and heading back to my room I heard my father crying in the shower. It was the first time in my entire life I had ever heard my father cry.