Each day, I come home to a pleasant gift that never loses its value. While it may seem ordinary to some, to me, it’s an art: my mother’s love on a plate. That same gift I eat, day after day, all thanks to my mother’s care. After the long, tiring day of school, replenishing with a bowl of my favorite home-cooked meals pushes me forward, allowing myself to accomplish my goals. Every time I eat, I am incredibly grateful for the very thing that keeps me alive.
Without a meal, I am unable to finish my work and go on with the rest of the day feeling content. The meal provides the simple feeling of eating something that’s full of love and warmth that is able to motivate me, bringing me closer to completing what I need to do.
The meal itself comes from a variety of dishes my mother cooks for me, consisting of mostly Chinese dishes–dishes I have loved for years. Each day offers another variation of food, all of which I love. Each bite shows me the art of cooking, sharing the appreciation with my brother, who also indulges everyday.
Without a bowl of love, I am not nourished. The simple magic of eating something made with care is special, as my days are not complete without a meal. It fills my heart, providing me with energy and joy. A happy boy needs to be nourished, and a simple home cooked meal provides me with this nourishment, bringing me life.
However, each meal is more than just the food. It is a testament to my life, a reward for each day. Each home cooked meal represents the love my parents show to me, providing me with something at the end of my day. Allowing myself to push through each school day is the thought in my mind of my glorious meal at home, waiting for me to consume.
So thank you, home cooked meals. Most importantly, thank you to my mother for providing me with life: created by an union of love, ingredients, and my mother. Each meal, a reminder of my Chinese culture, allows me to nourish myself. Each dish teaches me to work, live, and to enjoy my life, giving me something to look forward to each day.