The day was long. The house was a mess. The needs were many. By the time I put them all to bed, I was unfathomably tired. Launching into the dishes, I realized that all I had eaten for dinner was a slice of melon, two pizza crusts and a random piece of candy that I found in a tupperware (don't ask). It's quite possible that I had stuffed other things into my mouth while moving at the speed of light around my kitchen but I couldn't remember.
I was about to smear some peanut butter (that was already out on the counter) onto a piece of bread and eat it while cleaning when, for some reason, I found myself chopping a random piece of garlic. I chopped a few more. Then I browned it in a pan with some olive oil and the smell of it was wonderful and soothing. Inspired, I cut up a few ripe tomatoes from my garden and put that in along with some basil and a half an onion. I rummaged around my freezer and found some frozen shrimp. I pulled out some cold pasta (some in the shape of wagon wheels and some in the shape of Scooby Doo) from the fridge and realized that I was actually cooking a meal for me; yes, just for me. Well, while we're at it, let's squeeze in some lemon juice, and a few spoonfuls of capers. I finished it off with salt, fresh ground pepper and some shredded parmesan.
Then, I did something strange and unusual. I poured a glass of blood orange soda and sat down at my dining table with my pasta and I ate it. I did not multi-task for those 10 minutes. I did not read the paper. I did not check my email. I did not contemplate my to-do list. I let the dirty dishes and Joshua's unfilled pill box just sit in my kitchen while I enjoyed the taste of my dinner. And while I just sat and ate this fabulous thing that I had cooked FOR MYSELF, I felt my own sense of value and self respect increase in my own soul.