The Spatula

It might not look like much to you: it's just a spatula, or in my mom's simple terms (probably as we were growing up), "a turner."

It has been burned: see the corner missing. The hole to hang it burned off long ago. But I've had it since college; it's the best spatula I've ever had. And it was a gift from my dad.

My sister Karen once joked that she guessed the kitchen knife set he once bought each of us came out of the trunk of someone's car in the grocery store parking lot. That was my dad. It was all about finding a good deal and I'm sure my spatula was no different.

He bought it for me as I moved into an apartment after living in the dorms at college for two years. And there was a non-stick frying pan that I used until the non-stick coating started to peel off.

But the spatula remains.

He never told us he loved us, that wasn't him. But this was something he could, provide us with what we needed. What he didn't know, and what I didn't expect, is that this spatula really is the best one I've ever had and it's the one I reach for every time I'm cooking.

Thanks, Dad.