21 February 2010

The Art of French Cooking

This week Mum emailed me the front pages of the cook book my dad gave her for her 26th birthday, when I was six months old.  She and Huge had been trying out the new scanner.  

It choked me up a bit and made me feel a bit teary.  I haven't seen anything written by my dad since he died in 2006.  I think it was the sight of his handwriting and also the thought of him composing this poem for my mother when they were so young and newly married.  I quizzed mum about him signing off as "Pop" because that's how he used to sign off notes to me, and she said it was because he was all caught up in the throes of new fatherhood.  Of course, this did not easy my emotional burden one jot.  To cheer myself, I thought of my mother then juggling a new baby AND some of these momentous recipes and that put the smile back on my face.  I miss my dad.  I never thought I would say that.  I wish I had known him a whole lot better.....  

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