Growing up, I watched my mother do this often when we all sat around a tray of chai and snacks. While my father and brother picked the whole cookies, like they belonged to them, just them; my mother scoured for the crumbs and nibbled at them like they belonged to her, just her. To her, the crumbs of sacrifice were more delicious than the “…
Aastha, you stole my heart right here. My mother did the same thing. She always ate the crumbs and broken bits so everyone else could have the whole ones.
I don’t think I’d really even noticed it until I read this and then my mind flashed back in time and I could see her doing the very same thing. Not just cookies. The broken holuptsi, broken cookies, all the less than perfect things that appear at a meal were the bits my mother took for herself.
Thank you for showing me that memory. It feels very poignant. ❤