On a recent metro ride, I was seated behind what appeared to be a mother and son pair. The son about my age. For the few stops that we rode together until I got off the train, they spoke animatedly about an upcoming baking project at home. She wanted to make sure there was enough Kerrygold unsalted butter in his fridge for her to get to work. I could not tell if they were headed to his place directly from the train but baking and butter were top of mind things for her. She extolled the virtues of that particular brand of butter (which I happen to love as well though I am not a baker) over others and why she never bakes with anything else. The man assured her that there were enough supplies and she sounded happy.
Their conversation took my mind off everything else that had gone on in my day. I could imagine this woman, my mother's age, going to her son's home later that evening and getting started with her baking. It was the middle of the week and so people would likely be at work so she'd be alone in that kitchen and baking. Maybe it was a big birthday for someone in the family. She was not carrying any luggage so its likely she did not live too far away. As I walked out the station towards my destination, I could not help wondering if this is what happiness looked like for someone my mother's age - if indeed coming to J's home in the middle of a workweek to cook for the family on a special occasion could be my concept of happy when I am that age. I love cooking and feeding people so maybe that will warm my heart as much as this lady who cannot bake without Kerrygold butter.
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