It’s Sunday, 2:00 p.m. The scene is my parent’s home. The table is set and the pasta and the sauce are almost ready. It’s almost normal.
Almost.
However, Mom is sitting at the table, a scarf wrapped around her head to cover the u-shaped scar from recent surgery. She is ill but in good spirits. I sit with my brother, sister and children, waiting with her, listening. Familiar sounds come from the kitchen, however, from an unfamiliar source. The chef of the day, the chef of the year, is my father.
Role reversal. Ever since my mother was diagnosed with cancer this past February, my father has taken over. He has on occasion made his usual favorites: pasta aioli,, frittata and a few other dishes when he so felt inspired. Now, after he just celebrated fifty years of marriage to my mother with a gala that was memorable, he has taken on the role of head chef and caretaker. Mom’s role. From cooking, food shopping, cleaning or whatever needs to be done, Dad has shown to us all what for better or for worse means.
Sometimes it is rough, and we fight it. We want to do it. But this is the role that he feels he needs to fill. At first, we reluctantly, stepped out of the way. Now, it is just part of the new family dynamics.
So, with newfound awe, and sometimes a little tension, we eat, as good as we always did.
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