Throw Me A Bone, Brother

File Under: Family Dynamics.
This week at dinner my older brother threw out this question: Hey kid, can you help me with a recipe I used to have? Wow, he's attempting to connect... what recipe, brother? Is it something Mom used to make?
No, not something Mom used to make but something you used to make.
{What recipe of mine I asked with great interest. My jambalaya? Thai crispy noodles with Lime chicken? The Polenta Recipe I took off the PG&E bill from Point Reyes Station?..}
What you used to make. You used to make it.
When did I make this? {my joy is curdling to frustration}
I don't remember- something you used to make.
{ This was starting to go where many of our conversations have gone before.} Brother, can you remember an ingredient-anything- did it have chicken? some vegetables?
I don't remember- but you used to make it.
{Resisting my urge to rip out my eyeballs , we go deeper into the hole.}
You know I've been cooking for years, I went to cooking school...please, can you help out with any details? A time frame-
.. I don't remember what was in it but I think it might have been red.
Spaghetti? No, not spaghetti. It might have been red. Yes, I think it was red....
So, locked in time- in a place 30-35 years ago when perhaps I only made one dish. Do we really keep our loved ones into one space of time- and not free them to be who they are, and who they have turned out to be? And in those moments when we attempt to be inclusive, to show some interest, can we please be sure that there is the tiniest trace of meat on that bone?