The smell of Salt and Paprika [COMPLETED......for now]

Pan de Queso

I was sitting on the bed in my room as I stared down at the tear soaked letter; a wave of nothingness flooded every corner of my scared, adolescent mind.

I had no words.

But I had her Cook book. The one we spent so many years creating together.
The one she gifted to me in her death.
As I slowly opened the now yellowish pages, I began to fall even deeper into what felt like a bottomless void. Completely empty of all life.
And the hurt I felt was indescribable.

Yet somehow I couldn't help but smile as I recalled all the memories we shared together. The days and nights we spent perfecting these recipes. The countless times we failed and laughed at the horrendous looking amalgamation we called bread.
It felt like she was still with me. Like a part of her was still alive within these pages.
That we had spent so much of our time and love into creating this book, that our being had somehow managed to seep into the ink of the pen; our minds hidden within the grains of graphite.
Our souls had become one with the very ingredients stuck to the pages we touched with our doughy hands.
The pictures of us and our creations that we carefully taped to the pages, slowly began to pull me out of this black hole I didn't even know had almost consumed me.

It gave me closure.
In a sense.

To see that she would live on in these recipes.

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I spent days looking through our cook book; Reliving memories I didn't think I would ever remember.

It was calming in a way I thought that I would never feel again.

Not after her passing.

As I was continuing my blast to the past, I found something.
It was the first recipe that me and my grandmother had made successfully on our first attempt. The picture that was taped to the top left corner showed us with the biggest smiles on our faces. I was so proud of her that day.
And she was so proud of me.
It was a feeling that I would never forget.

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After what felt like years i finally decided to leave the comfort of my room and return to the outside world were downstairs a very concerned father laid stressfully on the couch, contemplating on whether he should knock on my bedroom door and ask if I wanted to eat dinner or simply wait until i was ready to come out and talk.

"Dad?" My voice knocked him out of his trance, sending him flying onto the floor in surprise.

^Ye-yes, yes!?^

" Do we have any condensed milk?" Feeling embarrassed he began to straighten himself out, patting the nonexistent dirt off his work clothes.

^Uh- we, we might? I think? Check the pantry, maybe?^ he stuttered as he scratched his head, nervously hoping that I didn't notice the small hole he ripped in his pants.

"Top?" ^Bottom, maybe? Why do you-you..um..need condensed milk?^ he questioned with a perplexed expression. Still embarrassed.

"I want to make something from Her cook book." Slowly but surely he began to realize why i decided to leave my cave of solitude.

^You want to make it for grandma?^ the look on his face went from one of embarrassment and confusion to that of a lonely boy, wishing he could tell his mother he loved her one last time.

"Yeah, i wanted..um-to...to honor her memory by-by...um...bringing something we made togEther to her funeral..." my voice began to crack.

The look on his face softened even more as he saw the tears in my eyes that threatened to over flow. I felt horrible after uttering those words. My breathing began to quicken and i started getting dizzy as my vision blurred from the water falls raging against cheeks. My father fumbled over the couch and past the coffee table as swiftly as he could to embrace me as I broke down in the middle of the living room. The salty rivers now flowing like a burst pipe, as i crumbled onto the floor in a sobbing, panicked mess.

"Why am I like this?!? Why am I so soft?! Why does it hurt so bad!?!"

The pit in my stomach seemed to grow larger and larger making me feel like I wanted to hurl, but I suddenly began to feel warmth amongst the cold darkness; my father brought me closer to his chest so I could hear his heartbeat, as he slowly caressed my back while he carefully ran his other hand soothingly through my hair.

^Its alright my love, it's alright. Let it out. You don't need to hold back or pretend like your okay just because you think you need to be strong! That's just who you are~It's in your nature to be soft and caring to others even if you don't say it. You got it from me, I got it from my mother, and she got it from hers. Don't ever feel like you can't have feelings! They are what make you such a beautiful human being.
And it's what she loved the most about you.^