Be Dauntless, To Face Every Storms

Short story by: Vailor In Dark

This is the day that I anticipated the most.

It's not the first time that I'll do this...but I hope this time...I could make this...perfectly.

We often desire to do things what we wanted to do in the very first place, practicing and practicing until we make it just right. And this time I want to make this...viand for my Mom, impeccable.

Adobo is the Philippines' national dish, it's not questionable for the reason that it's tasty,yummy,and delicious for a viand. It perfectly suits if it's partnered with rice.

While my Mom looking at me with a piercing eyes, I couldn't think straight if this time...that I could make her happy, if I'll do her specialty, defective.

I'm a son of both professional chef's, all the expectations that I'll be like them when I grow up was like a wound sprinkled with salt, I know when I was just a little child I love cooking, when I saw my father and mother cooking for me that's when I saw my dream...to be like them, I'll love to cook a meal for them which I dreamt that they'll love too.

But... we live... in reality not on some drama, novel or fiction story, I only dreamt being like them, when I grew up, I realized that it's not my forte, I'm not really into it I wanted to make houses ...but in the back of my mind, i know I want to impress them-my parents, that I'll be like them.

I remembered the days when I usually get insulted by my classmates in our culinary school, they laugh,mocked and joke me around because I'm the future inheritor of that school yet I can't cook a dearly food like what they want it to taste like.

With my shaking hands I started preparing the ingredients of Adobo, 1)Vinegar- while I looked at the vinegar i remembered it's taste-'sour' it reminds me of the past where I felt sour in my inner self, when I usually endure the feeling of being nothing although I'm the child of the owner of that school. The 2)salt- salty feeling,the past that made me feel piquant how my parents treated me like I was a big shameful thing they did, when I didn't win the hearts of the judges in the mini contest in our culinary school. 3)Pepper it also reminded me of pungent moments where I almost gave up that I can't be like my parents...

Even so, i didn't gave up. Cuz I realized...that I don't need to be like my parents. I need to be my own... I need to make it...to achieve it....my way. I perceived that if I can't be like them...then it'll be better if I'll be...–myself.

With that thought I made up my mind, I created my own recipe, i hopefully anticipate that this time it will be perfect, this time that I'm gonna be myself no pretensions just me...my own way.

Instead of proceeding to the next step that's clearly on the recipe, i added one more ingredient, that they didn't think that I'll add to her specialty.

I added it to the soy sauce, mixed it and poured it in the boiling pan-where the adobo is done but I added it my own taste, the one I like it to have–sugar.

Some might say that it's not for rice, it's too sweet for a viand, but won't you make it a try? Since you can't get everyone's tongue then why won't you just let them try it?

In life we take risks to achieve what we want.

When I served what I cooked infront of my parents, the confusion I their eyes was so evident.

"Why did you put sugar on it? It's not dessert! Come on! Don't make me lose my appetite!"

I watched my father while he walked out of our dining area, I'm pained that he doesn't even want to try it before judging how does it tastes.

I was hurt, but then I remembered in life, 'disappointments' is part of it. You can't get everyone's side.

"Mom...please try it..."

I said to my mom who's looking at me right now, i can sense in her eyes that she's doubting me. But she nodded to me. I got her fork and sliced a bit meat of Adobo.

I felt happy that she let me show what I've got. And a bit nervous too.

In a slow motion when my mother finally tasted what I cooked...i felt anxious suddenly, what if she'll not like it? Does it mean I should stop what I'm doing right now? If doesn't suit her taste, will she consider it a piece of trash? And if...it does suited her taste...will she be proud of me? Support me now what I'm planning to do?

She closed her eyes, I assumed that because she doesn't want me to see how she hate and dislike how it tasted.

Maybe...I'll never really make them proud of me...

That I'll never see the day where they'll be proud that I'm their son despite i didn't follow their chosen path for me-instead of taking culinary course I took industrial engineering secretly causing them to discouraged by me.

That's what I thought...

Cuz when my mom opened her eyes and it looked at me.

I almost teared up, it's... it's... it's full of love and... proud.

It was the feeling of alexithymia, the literally meaning I have no words for this emotion.

My mom called my dad and forced him to taste what I've cooked. In a sudden they felt proud of me, it's very delicious they said to me, I couldn't believe it!

I was very happy when they made it to our one of special dishes in our restaurants.

I am the happiest man in the world when my parents told me that they're proud at me for the first time.

I realized that it's not really the sugar that helped me, but the trust in self that I could to better ...

So you...you better find you own sugar, the one that will help you-be yourself.