“Do you have any more of that beef stew you made?” asked the widowed neighbour I occasionally gave some of my cooking too.
“I have a little. Did you need some?”
“Yes.” she responded.
I went to my kitchen and pulled out from the freezer what remained of a hearty winter stew. “Here you go.”
“This isn’t enough.”
“It’s all I have.” I clarified.
“I have guests over. It’s not worth you giving this to me if there’s not enough for everyone.”
I shrugged, feeling taken aback. “That’s all I have.”
“You’ll need to make some more.”
“I don’t have the time. I’m heading out.” By now I was getting rather irate.
“Well when would it be ready?”
“I just don’t have the time today, sorry.”
Months passed, as I was bringing in the post from the post box someone I didn’t recognise spoke to me. “You don’t leave food for my Aunt anymore.”
“I’ve been too busy with work lately.” I answered by way of explanation making a connection between this person and the elderly lady I use to occasionally cook for.
“That’s a shame. There’s no reason for us to come over to dinner with her anymore without the benefit of your cooking.”