Handicapped

Part Two

 I woke up from my sleep, tears in my eyes. Yes, blind people cried. I hadn't seen my dad since then. No, I hadn't seen anything since then. I hadn't felt my dad's presence since then to be exact. 

I had my mother and my little sisters, though, which kept me company. However, my mother eventually couldn't afford to keep my father's restaurant running. She had told us that it was all too much for her and that she had barely had enough money to keep our stomachs full and a roof over our heads. 

I felt bad for my mom. She worked two jobs and had to take care of three daughters: a blind 20-year-old and two 13-year-old twins. With my mom being away most of the time, I was the one whom my sisters relied on for cooking. After all, the least I could do to repay my mother for her hard work was to cook. I knew I had to rely on my other senses. Therefore, I continued cooking even without my eyesight. The doctors told my mom to keep me away from the stove, but my mom believed in me. She said I was wiser than others and persuaded me to continue cooking.

(The next part may be a bit confusing)

I grabbed my cane and made my way towards the kitchen, using it to sense everything around me. When I finally reached the kitchen, I put my senses to work. I had memorized where everything was in the kitchen. From the sauces to the meats to the vegetables, I had a clear image of the kitchen in my mind. I decided to make Spaghetti Fritters with salami and zucchini. I opened the cabinet, sensing the pot I used to cook pasta. Feeling my hands touch a cool metal that was a bit larger than the other pans, I knew I had found the right one. I poured in a bit of water and put it on the stove, feeling the heat. I then put in the pasta when the temperature was just right (I used my finger to sense the heat, and I was used to it).

When the pasta was done, I placed 3 eggs in a bowl and lightly beat them. I added the flour, garlic, and Parmesan into the bowl and stirred them. While I stirred, I heard the sound of the whisk going against the bowl in a rapid movement. Putting the pasta, zucchini, and salami into the mixture, I began to toss them inside.

I then heated the oil in a fry pan over a medium high heat. Most people paid attention to the directions the stove keys faced. However, I paid attention to the heat itself. This helped me realize if it was low, medium, or high. It's that simple.

 I gathered small handfuls of the pasta mixture and carefully lowered them into the hot oil. I loved it when the bits of the oil flew from the pan and came onto my skin. It's the little moments of sensation that made me love cooking. I cooked the fritters, in batches, for 2 minutes each side. I grabbed a small knife and made it touch the fritters. I heard a sound. This meant they were crisp. 

Cooking has always been my passion from a young age. When I first went blind, I was terrified that I'd never be able to touch a pan again. However, even with my loss of eyesight, I may even love cooking more than I ever did in my younger years. For one thing, it makes me feel special. No, it makes me feel... normal. It gives me confidence and is one of the reasons why I didn't fall into a tunnel of depression from my blindness.

"There," I said, clasping my hands together, smelling the fritters. The smell itself reminded me of how happy my family would be when they ate them. "Cooked to perfection."