You know, every time I make rice, I always have leftovers. I never wondered why that is until today. I learned to make food for many. When my mom taught me how to make food, she did so with the only knowledge she had: making food for my family for both dinner and lunch the next day.
So I learned to cook for 4, sometimes even for 8; and even though I try to reduce the portions to make it so that I only have enough for me (I hate wasting food), I always end up with enough food for a day or two. Rice is one of those foods that I always cook too much of; 2 cups of rice always turns into 4 days of rice.
It makes me think about how I wasn’t meant to be alone. Sure, I might be alone for now, but I don’t think I was alone forever. Maybe someday my cooking skills will be good enough for someone, but until then I guess I’ll just have a lot of leftover rice.
It’s funny. In the past I would’ve been distraught by talking about this, but now I’m really not that sad to be alone. Sure, my cat is with me (did I tell you I got a cat?), but he can’t eat rice (I think). At least not as much as a human can, but I’m sure that he’d appreciate it.
This reminds me of a Taylor Swift song (as most things do). “Wanting was enough, for me it was enough.” And for now, wanting will have to be enough.