Just the other day, I went to the supermarket with my parents. I was wandering around, bored as usual, when my hand brushed across a familiar feeling box. What was it? Pancakes. Yum. I’ve always had fond memories of those and as I held that box tenderly, your face came into my mind. A smile broke out on my face and later, I bought it along with my parent’s other purchases.
I still remember when we made pancakes together. You’d prepare everything and let me whip the batter into shape. It’s just somehow relaxing, which might be why I love baking so much. You’d pour the batter onto the pan because I, being the coward that I am, was scared of the heat.
And when they were done… we’d fight over who gets to eat which piece. I used to be bitter about us fighting over food, but that you’re no longer here with me, I really really miss that. We’d bicker and sometimes that would escalate, but most of the time we’d be joking and laughing over it. They were the seasonings of love and what made the food taste delectable and the places more memorable. Admittedly, it was kinda fun. Nowadays, eating seems like such a lonely activity.
The other time, I went out to eat with my friends, but it just didn’t feel the same. You weren’t there. There was no one to fight over food with. No one to tell me that I’m holding the chopsticks funny.
I miss the times we shared, when you weren’t married, when you were still my sister.
PS. We still meet almost every week, but it just doesn’t feel the same anymore. Most of the times, I’m so exasperated I don’t even know if you’re treating me as a younger brother… or as a slave. Then again, that could just be due to your kids being so darn mischievious. But that’s what I like about them.
PSS. At the end of the day, no matter how much I complain, I’m still happy becasue we got to meet up and I feel like a real uncle, taking care of my precious niece and nephew.
