Next to my nose, a pot bubbles with sour cabbage.<\/p>\n
My hands quickly \u201cchop\u201d the carrots and peel the potatoes.<\/p>\n
And while I usually cook without much enthusiasm, at times like this\u2014I twirl in the kitchen, apron on, almost in a dance step.<\/p>\n
Until when?<\/p>\n
The secret is simple\u2014I\u2019m cooking the favorite meal of a child I haven\u2019t seen for a week.<\/p>\n
Not just haven\u2019t seen\u2014<\/p>\n
I had sent him off to a Scout camp.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s big.<\/p>\n
Almost taller than me.<\/p>\n
A 13-year-old boy.<\/p>\n
Serious.<\/p>\n
Capable of taking care of himself.<\/p>\n
Responsible\u2026,\u201d I kept repeating in my mind all week.<\/p>\n
But then, when I watched the weather forecasts and sighed about it being too hot for shorts and a T-shirt,<\/p>\n
I immediately remembered that big boy, almost taller than me,<\/p>\n
running around in a military uniform and leather boots.<\/p>\n
Will he overheat?<\/p>\n
When the weather alerts warned of a storm\u2026<\/p>\n
Loving the weather as I usually do, I stood by the window, heart in my throat, worrying about how my \u201cbig, responsible\u201d child was doing in the forest. Under a tree.<\/p>\n
Is he scared?<\/p>\n
While arranging my own lunch and enjoying a delicious dinner, not a day went by without thinking of my \u201cindependent 13-year-old\u201d boy.<\/p>\n
Is he hungry?<\/p>\n
Not the first time.<\/p>\n
Not the last.<\/p>\n
When I send a child off for a week,<\/p>\n
I stay at home with a third of my heart tucked into the backpack sneaking out the door.<\/p>\n
All those times, I remember my mother\u2019s words:<\/p>\n
\u201cJust because you\u2019re grown doesn\u2019t mean I love you any less.\u201d<\/p>\n
And truly:<\/p>\n
When they\u2019re little and we sigh because caring for them feels like you need an extra pair of eyes installed\u2014 it seems like the hardest time of all.<\/p>\n
When will they grow up? When will they be independent?<\/p>\n
When will they be able to take care of themselves?\u2014buzzes in your mind.<\/p>\n
When they do grow up and vanish beyond a mother\u2019s horizon\u2026<\/p>\n
You realize again that shepherding little ones around the yard was actually easy.<\/p>\n
When the questions:<\/p>\n
Isn\u2019t it too hot\/too cold?<\/p>\n
Is he hungry?<\/p>\n
Is he scared?<\/p>\n
Does it hurt?<\/p>\n
\u2026can be answered just by glancing at them.<\/p>\n
But when you can no longer cast that glance,<\/p>\n
the same questions\u2014\u201cChild, are you okay?\u201d\u2014<\/p>\n
don\u2019t go away.<\/p>\n
They just become rhetorical.<\/p>\n
And pinch your heart. Invisible little pinches.<\/p>\n
For mothers.<\/p>\n
Cooking the favorite meals of children they\u2019ve missed, almost dancing in the kitchen.<\/p>\n
Homes scented with sauerkraut.<\/p>\n
And lightning and thunder seem cozy and romantic again.<\/p>\n
When everyone, small and big, fits into a mother\u2019s horizon.<\/p>\n
Delicious morning coffee,
\nV.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-17777","istorija","type-istorija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija\/17777","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/istorija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/istorija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17777"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}