When we were growing up, our grandmother would cook us spaghetti and meatballs for our birthday every year. Maybe she made something different for the grown-ups, whatever favorite food they requested, but Clark, Jim and I only wanted that one meal. There was nothing finer. I guess nostalgia is strong in our genes because it’s still the thing we crave on birthdays and so I’ve made it the tradition to keep cooking them each year when we celebrate. Yesterday my big brother turned 39 and tonight we had our little family birthday party at our house, just like last year. I made the meatballs Sunday and froze them since I had to work today, but by 5:00 things were Italianissimo in my kitchen. I was busy making sauce from scratch and listening to Andrea Bocelli.
And soon the whole gang was here. It may be Clark’s birthday party, but John Walker is always the guest of honor.
We held hands to say the blessing, “God is great, God is good…” and I was so in love with and thankful for these people, our little family, my heart felt like it could burst.
Mammaw’s birthday is next month so I can bring out the spaghetti pot again soon.