Carol A. Hand
“Ahma, What are you making?”
“Baked tofu, Sweetie”
“I don’t like tofu,” Ava replies, wrinkling her nose.
“But it’s good for you. It’s a healthy source of protein if you don’t eat meat. Do you have it at home?”
“Yes. My mom chops it up and puts it in with vegetable stir fry. But I still don’t like it.”
“Let’s make a deal. Just try one piece when I’m done. I think you’ll like it. The secret is the spice.”
Twenty minutes later.
“Okay, it’s ready to try. Here’s a little piece, Ava.”
“I’m only eating one piece. But I know I won’t like it.”
“So what do you think?”
“I guess it’s okay.”
Taking another piece, “Well, maybe better than okay.”
“Well, maybe it’s really good. It tastes like bacon. I’ve had five pieces. Well, maybe more than that.”
“Will you tell my mom how to make this? It tastes kind of like bacon.”
Photo: October 2015
Some days it’s just a joy to spend time with my granddaughter. Yes, the nagging fear about the future she will face is still there. The anger that government leaders don’t care if she lives or dies is there, too. And the outrage that corporations don’t care if they poison the air she breathes, the water she drinks, or the food she eats. But for this moment, we live with joy and laughter. I’ll deal with the threats later if I can. Now is the time for love and play. I need these moments to give me hope and strength…
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