Happy Anniversary

       Looking at the vegetables sitting on the cutting board, he tried to remember if he got everything for her favorite dish.

 “But I promise tonight that I will clean the hen properly this time. How was I to know they package the inners and put them back into the bird.” Patrick chuckled. “I knew there were reasons men never started in the kitchen.”

        As he was pulling everything out of the chest cavity of the hen, as his mind went back to cleaning out the sink pipe when Rebecca lost her wedding ring down the drain. You would have thought the house had caught fire. But Patrick couldn’t just tell her that it was okay. He had to get that ring back on her finger where it belonged. Using anything he could thinking of to stick down the dark black pipe to get back the treasure that his wife lost. He shook his head for he didn’t really care about the ring, he just didn’t want the tears to stay in her beautiful blue eyes.

       Looking down at the empty bird, he smirked, it the simple things he thought. Placing the hen in the roasting pan, went back to the sink and washed his hands. Then got the butter and garlic power. Mixed them; added fresh cut Parsley and then scooped in into his hands as he massaged it into the bird’s skin. I could wished to be treated this well after I am dead and gone. He never did understand how it made the bird taste better, but it did. Then after cleaning his hands once more he went over to the cutting board and started to cut up a granny Smith and gala apple. Mixing them in a little olive oil, a splash of balsamic vinegar, pinch of salt and little pepper. Then he stuffed the clean empty cavity until it was falling back out the butt. He covered it with foil and place in the oven.

     “I going to mix it up a little,” he spoke out softly.

    He began to cube the sweet potatoes and put them into boiling hot water. Then moved onto the green beans. As he was cutting the end off the beans he started to smile again. Remembering the first time Rebecca asked him to help make dinner.

        “Don’t be afraid, you can’t kill them,” Rebecca laughed. “They are pass the point of return…they can either be eaten or spoil into a smelly pile a penicillin slime. I think we should eat them. So we don’t allow them to die in vain.”

      “I am not worried about killing them, but what if I massacre them to the point that cooking can not save them,” Patrick laughed at his own words as he heard them out loud. He didn’t need her to tell him how ridiculous he sounded.

    “That’s why I am teaching you now. What do you think you are going to be cooking me perfectly for our fiftieth wedding anniversary?” Rebecca smiled at him. “I have faith in you. You got forty-nine years to learn.”

      Looking down at the green beans, even cut and clean they didn’t look as perfect as she did it. But they were better then he did that first night. He turn the heat on the stove and placed a frying pan with a little olive oil on the flames; as a knock came at the door. He took the pan off the heat as he went to answer it.

           “Hey dad,” his daughter smiled bringing in a long brown paper bag. “I hope this is the right bottle.”

           Opening the bag and pulling out the bottle of red wine.

           “It's perfect; Rachel.” Patrick smiled at his daughter. He placed a kiss on her freckled forehead.

          He walked back into the kitchen and replaced the pan back on the stove and drop in two cloves of mince garlic and a cup of thinly sliced onions. He let it sauté for a moment then tossed in the green beans. He went to check on the potatoes to see if they were soft yet. Popping a cube in his mouth and chewing it rather quickly to keep his tongue from getting burnt, he decides to give them few more minutes. Then he opens the oven and pulled out the bird. Removing the foil and basting it, allowing the aroma to fill the kitchen. Then he pushed the rack back in uncovered. It had to be perfect repeated in his mind over and over again.

              “It smells amazing,” Rachel said walking into the kitchen. “At first I never could understood why mom worked so hard teaching you how to cook; until now.”

           “Out of the kitchen,” Patrick pushed his daughter gently into the dining room. “I need to focus. It has to be perfect.”

           “I am sure she not going to be mad if it’s not.” Rachel smirked at her father.

            With a shake of her head and a simple smile, Rachel went to set the table. Patrick was back in the kitchen pouring the sweet potatoes into the drainer as the steam swirled up into his face tickling his beard.

          “Are you planning on becoming a mountain man?” Rebecca asked with a giggle. “I thought you were going to shave that thing after November.”

          “Don’t worry, it will grow on you too.” Patrick smiled. “I promise.”

         Looking at his smiling reflection in the kitchen window at the gray beard that hugged his dimpled chin. He was right, she fell in love with it and threatened to leave if he got rid of it. 

       Soon the potatoes were in a bowl mashed with some butter and a pinch of cinnamon. The green beans were in Rebecca’s mother's porcelain dish. Then he finally pulled the hen from the oven and it was a deep golden brown. He looked at the meal as he placed it on the table. Looking at the two plate setting out. A candle lit. Two glasses of sweet red wine sparkling in the candle light. He looked over to his daughter and then back to the table.

             “Perfect,” he said with the threat of tears trying to fill his deep chocolate brown eyes. He looked down at his wedding photo sitting in the middle of the table. “Happy 50^th Anniversary my love, like I promised!”