Cooking With Nona
I received a call from my daughter-in-law with a request. That morning had been tough for her four-year-old son, Joseph. As with any little one around that age, sometimes mornings can be hard. That’s true with someone around my age as well. My daughter-in-law asked what my schedule for the day was, and if I had some time could Joseph hang out with me for a bit. “I think he just needs some Nona love,” she said.
Well, you grandmothers know that if such a request is made, chances are you will flip your day on the spot to accommodate whatever it is your grandchild needs, especially if the prescription is a dose of grandmotherly love. When you’re four, such love might even mend a hard day.
Joseph and I have a very special love language. We love to cook together. When I picked him up, I asked what he wanted to do. As expected, Joseph said he’d like to make soup. Perfect. I mean, what else would you want to do on a 95+ degree day other than make hot soup. I just told my very summertime self to channel mid-January for the afternoon. I enthusiastically accepted Joseph’s request to make “red” (AKA tomato) soup. Not only that, but I also suggested we make some cookies as well. Already I could see the toughness of the morning fade from Joseph’s eyes. And to boot, his brother, Thomas jumped into my car. All was settled.
I’m well aware of the benefits of cooking with my grandchildren. Every time they pull the step stool up to the kitchen island so they can become tall enough to see and do, I know I’m building core memories with them; especially when they plop a cup of flour into the mixing bowl. All we can do is giggle our way through plumes of flour ash propelling into the air.
My opportunities to hang out with my grandparents were few. The distance between us made cooking together a seldom occurrence. However, in my limited memories, I remember my grandmother’s poundcake, the softness of her weathered hands, and the ways her wrinkled eyes smiled when she looked at me. If I can remain touched all these years later by such infrequent visits with her, I know my frequent opportunities to impact my grandchildren are filled with good potential.
Eventually, life will become a bit more complicated for Joseph and all my grandkids. As they grow, fitting comfortably in the world will pose challenges. I suspect there may be some angst in the journey of becoming. There may be times they feel misunderstood, or perhaps moments of conflict with their parents or peers. Given all that, what I wish to offer in perpetuity to all of them is a safe space. At least for now, my kitchen offers that safety. It’s a place where experiences are shared through measuring cups and spoons that need to be licked. I’m pretty sure Joseph will always remember making “red” soup and cookies with his Nona. And my other grandchildren will remember those snafoos of our cooking time; like forgetting to add the flour. Let’s just say that will remain a “dippy Nona” memory for all time. Laughing is the best ingredient.
The afternoon of making soup and cookies left Joseph happy and full of smiles. I realize as he gets older, my dose of “Nona love” will fall short of making all things better. I just hope Joseph knows there’s a safe place for him always in my world. If any of my grandkids have a hard time finding their smile, we’ll just begin where we know the biggest smiles can be found. Nona’s kitchen is open for business.