Once the run was done, I pulled into my parents" driveway and slipped inside the house. I showered and dressed while my mother heated dinner, then headed downstairs to offer help. She"d finished following the housekeeper"s instructions on how to warm the honey-roasted pork loin, butternut squash, and green beans. Luck was on my side as she"d already set the table. We all sat and talked about our days.
“Looks delicious, Mom. You"ve excelled in your chef skills tonight.”
“It"s not that hard to follow a few steps on a piece of paper,” she giggled.
“You"ve totally come so far with this talent,” I replied.
“I suppose I could win home cook of the year, eh?”
“Ahem. Are you ready for tomorrow"s classes?” inquired my father, disinterested in engaging in our banter on my mother"s lack of cookin
