My brothers and I all have our ways of demonstrating love for Dad. And right now Dad can use all the TLC he can get.
My brother, Dean, whipped up a batch of one of Dad’s favorite confections this morning: buckwheat pancakes.
My kitchen smells like stale beer the morning after a fraternity party. These grainy pancakes, tasting of yeast and looking like dirt, are an obsession that escapes me. “It’s an acquired taste,” Dean says. I guess.
I may dislike the smell and hate the taste, but I love these little rituals that my brothers bring with them when he visit. Dad eats it up. Literally.