Something as simple as an omelet can be rather disconcerting.

I didn’t fix said omelet, it was prepared for me by Papi. He didn’t have to. I’ve cooked many an omelet for myself over the years. It feels strange, almost lazy, to have someone else cook for me. After so many years as a single mom, cooking for myself and the children, to have a meal prepared for me that doesn’t consist of going to a restaurant seems decadent.

I struggled with it. I quite literally felt lost and confused. Due to Papi’s MS and the shaking of his hand, I was tasked with slicing mushrooms and tomatoes and cracking the eggs. I was summarily shooed out of the kitchen at that point.

The omelet was delicious. The chef – easy on the eyes.

I’m uncertain I’ll ever get used to the feeling of having someone doing things for me without an ulterior motive. I am certain I will never take it for granted.