There was this one time several years ago, back when I lived in a tiny house in the tiny town I graduated high school, when my little sister came over for lunch. She would have probably been about a freshman in high school at the time. In she popped with a, "Hello! I'm here."
And I fed her hamburger.
Not as in a cheeseburger or a hamburger on a bun with a nice side or two, but rather just chopped up and cooked hamburger. That's it.
That was before my cooker days and we still laugh about it now. Who feeds someone that and tries to convince them it's a meal?
This summer, as a soon to be junior in college, my little sister came to my house for lunches when she was working at the bank in the bigger town I now live. In she popped with a, "Hello! I'm here."
And I would do two things.
Number one, comment on her outfit because love a duck, Sister Pister can put together some cuteness. Number two, feed her a wholesome and homemade meal.
Never just cooked up bits of hamburger.
Things change. I'm grateful I can now call myself a cooker and make a real something out of random ingredients which are mostly usually on hand. I'm grateful I no longer live in that tiny house, the one I had basically fold myself in half to crawl backwards down the ladder chute to get to the laundry in the old as the hills basement.
Things don't change. I'm grateful my little sister still wants to come to my house and spend time with me when she can.
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