Whenever I visited the parents, and then later only the Mama, I was sent home with a care package. Lots of fresh vegetables and fruit from the garden, as well as freezer bags full of cooked rice, lumpia, pork adobo, fried chicken, and bibingka.
Whether I was single or married, living alone or with roommates, food always came home with me. Much of the vegetables and fruits were given away to neighbors and friends. The cooked food went into the freezer and eventually most were eaten by friends, spouse, and myself.
In my 20s, I said to the Mama, "No, no, that's too much."
In my 30s, I sighed and just accepted the food.
In my 40s, I appreciated everything that she picked in her garden and cooked in her kitchen.
In my 50s, the Husband and I were living with the Mama. If we had not, I'm very sure that when we visited the Mama, she would've given us lots of food to take home.
And, now that I'm in my 60s, I realize that the Mama was sending her love home with me through her food.
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