I Want to be More Like Her

This week I was making garlic chicken enchiladas and green rice for dinner. I put on an oven mitt to fetch a pan from the oven and noticed a smear of red sauce got on the thumb. The red sauce blended with the oil spot already on the mitt, with the drops of pink Something, and with the mark of brown from when I used cocoa powder instead of flour to help a birthday bundt cake not stick to the pan. There are other food stains on the fabric, too. And the thing is, it was my mom's oven mitt. And there in my hot kitchen this week I realized I'm not sure what all on there was from me, and which all was from her. Something about this made me smile.