My bonding time with Aunt Sicily and Uncle Sebastian comes in the form of cooking. There are very few barriers that cannot be broken through by cooking including language. There is something about watching a person who loves cooking share their joy with me that brings a smile to my face. The finer details of who they are cannot be revealed in regular small talk but unfold over time as they cook. It is in the way she/he holds a knife, organizes a spice rack, or selects produce that teaches me about the level of love and patience she/he has for her/his loved ones. Sicily and Sebastian are a delightful team working side by side as my Kerala cooking instructors. Both appear impressed by my level of interest and excitement at learning; I must admit I, too, am impressed with myself. I have always loved cooking, watching people cook, and assisting in the kitchen but I never really noticed or paid attention to how much I have actually picked up over the years. When Sicily reaches for something and begins searching for the words to describe what she is doing I already have an idea of what she is going to say and do. When she or Sebastian presents me with fresh seasonings I can either identify it at first glance or after a quick inhalation. The complexity of the dishes is centered on patience because each dish requires that you build up the flavor. They taught me how to make chicken Masala, chili chicken, vegetable biryani, and are eager to teach me more. They have reaffirmed for me that there is still joy in cooking. There is still joy in prepping and cooking for hours to serve a meal that will last a half hour.

I am homesick because I want to be in the kitchen with my mom as she makes her lasagna or baked macaroni with baked chicken and collard greens or her okra soup. I want to watch her tell me that she loves my dad by the way she cooks each dish to suit his taste and that she loves me and my sister because she pre-stocks her kitchen with all the ingredients to prepare one or more of our childhood favorites. But this is not the homesick that makes a person want to curl up and cry. It is more like a curiosity to learn and explore the many faces, gestures, and rhythms of love that are passed from generation to generation. I was taught that love is a dab of this, a smidge of that, a pound of this, and an ounce of that but most importantly it is an act of patience, care, and selfless giving.

Being here my loves have become more apparent. I really do relish in the simplicities of life. For the ten years I have been labeled an adult by society (I'm still just a big kid at heart) I thought I was supposed to be complicated, troubled, and somehow mysterious. India has helped me to realize that simplicity, in its own way, is both complex and rare. Now how to apply that realization to my personal and professional life back home is the next piece to the puzzle that is me...in India...for another 3.5 months.