Food

As I walk into my dark hallway after a long day, the smell of tomato and basil come over me. I hear the radio humming RTE, an Irish radio show, as I walk into the aroma of spaghetti Bolognese in my kitchen. My mouth begins to water as I walk past the oven with the smell of garlic bread, baking just to the right crisp tan. My dad is standing by the cooker switching between stirring the spaghetti and mixing the bolognese to avoid it from burning. My mom is typing away on her laptop either replying to emails or shopping on amazon on the couch in the family room with my dog cuddled up, sleeping next to her. My brother is upstairs “doing homework”, but we all know he is on his phone. As I put my stuff down next to our counter, my dad asks me to set the table and to call my brother for dinner. We have a family room table where we usually eat dinner at the end of the long kitchen leading to my backyard. I set the table and my stomach begins to crave the sweet tomato and juicy beef, as I look back on memories of my family's long eating of our spaghetti Bolognese. We have this meal on vacation when feeding my family of 30 because it is a pretty simple one and we can make a lot of it if we need it. My dad serves up the plates, my brother walks in and asks for more on his plate, because he is a growing 15-year-old boy, and my mom grabs the ketchup and parmesan, and I grab some water for all of us to drink. Tonight, it is the four of us sitting at our kitchen table covered in vibrant green, rooster themed table cloth ready to hear about each other's day and eat a good plate of spaghetti Bolognese.