Pancakes and Memories

If you want to get nostalgic in a hurry, just move to South Korea and make yourself some buttermilk pancakes with strawberry preserves...at least this is what I have found works anyways. I went to the store tonight and purchased all the necessary ingredients for pancakes (which was NOT an easy task let me tell you). I just wanted to sink my teeth into some good old-fashioned hotcakes smothered in lots of maple syrup. Well, I found out that maple syrup is impossible to find here so I settled for strawberry jam, which in my opinion, is just as good anyhow. SO when I got to my apartment, I whipped up some batter, measuring out by eyeball as we don't have measuring utensils here. It turned out looking pretty good so I poured the cakes and got cooking. I sat down with a plate of strawberry covered cakes minutes later, itching to taste them melting in my mouth. But I was not prepared for what hit me at the first bite. Don't misunderstand. The pancakes were awesome (not to brag, just stating facts) but it was the smell and taste triggering memories that knocked me for a loop. I just sort of froze for a second with my fork in my hand as I remembered.

See, pancakes with strawberry jam is what my daddy made for me the first morning I started driving for UPS and also what he made the first morning I started college. And he also made me french toast the morning I left for Florida. I don't know if he remembers those mornings but I do. I know it seems like nothing much but I know that my dad was showing his love for me by making me a good breakfast. I even remember him saying the morning of UPS, "You need to eat cause you're gonna need all the energy you can get" and I was too nervous to eat much of anything. My dad has always been an early riser and often makes breakfast on Saturdays for the family. I realize now that its just one of the many ways he shows love to us. He doesn't have to do that and he didn't have to do it for me on those occasions but he did because he loved me and wanted the best for me. Making breakfast was just a way for him to express that. So, thanks Daddy, for breakfast and for loving me enough to make me pancakes at 5:30 in the morning. I love you more than I can say!