Cooking From A Distance

Vicky, I’m going to tell you

How to make the sauce

And before I do

I just want to let you know

That you’re not going to do it right

I’m going to tell you

Exactly how I do it

And you’re going to try your best

And then it’s not going to taste like mine

And that’s okay

You are, in many ways,

An improvement over me, your mother

You’re funnier

Smarter

Your father says you’re nicer than me

But he’s the dumbest man

I’ve ever met in my life

So what does he know?

But there is one

You are never going

To get right

And that’s my sauce

I wouldn’t even bother

Trying to teach you

How to make it

But I know it cheers you up

When you’re feeling bad

And I know you must be feeling bad

Right about now

So far from home

And by yourself

With just you

And that boyfriend I don’t approve of

You call him a husband

If you want

But just because you marry somebody

And you have a wedding

That your father paid for

Against my wishes

And you get a marriage certificate

And eight years goes by

Without a divorce

That doesn’t make somebody

Your husband

He’s an okay guy, I guess

But the first time he meets me

He doesn’t clean his plate

What’s that about?

I’m trying to stay positive

So I won’t bring it up again

Until tomorrow

When I FaceTime you

Right now we’re not doing grievances

We’re doing sauce

I don’t know how much garlic

You have there

But you’re going to need more

You’re going to think

You have enough

And you’re dead wrong

You can’t possibly have enough garlic there

So see if that guy you live with

With the wedding ring

Can go get some more

Just make sure he puts on that mask I sent him

With the pooping dog on it

I thought he’d appreciate the humor

Once you put all the garlic in

You’re going to start adding this and that

And I have no idea how much of anything

Is supposed to go in the sauce

So you’re going to have to guess

And you’re going to get it wrong

And that’s how my sauce

Is going to become your sauce

Your grandmother’s sauce

Was better than my sauce

And her mother’s sauce

Was better than her sauce

And I bet if we went back in time

To Sicily in the 1500’s

We’d find an old woman

Making a sauce so good

It would make us both give up cooking forever

And that’s why we should be grateful

There aren’t any time machines

Because at least for right now

I can say I make the best sauce

On the planet

But I know it’s not as good

As the ones I used to have

Growing up

And you’re going to feed yourself

A sauce that’ll never be as good

As the one you had growing up

And that’s what we call--

Tradition

Making a lesser sauce

Than your mother

It’s a beautiful family tradition

The important thing

Isn’t that it’s as good as mine

The important thing

Is that it’s something I can give to you

Even when we’re so far apart

And one day

When we’re back together again

I’ll teach you how to make it in person

It still won’t be as good as mine

But I can at least hug you a few times

As you’re making it

So you don’t feel as bad

Until then, we’re going to have to

Do our best

Sometimes, kid

That’s all you can do