Smells of meat and chesse cooking diverts my attention from the usual re-runs of Family Guy on TBS. I walk into the kitchen to view my mother at her finest:cooking and teaching. She, any chance she gets, tries to teach me how to cook and I always resist her as much as I can muster. I watch her flipping the meat with such ease and formality it amazes me.

"How do you do that so easily?" I ask her, carefully leaning over to watch her technique. Smiling at my childish question, she answers genially, "Practice my dear. Lot's of practice." Her eyes light up at my overzealousness. I look up at her and see her almond-shaped chocolate brown eyes focus on her flipping.

My mother's lessons began at my young age of six when upon receiving a letter of misbehavior, she sat me down for a "talk". I dreaded these "talks" because they always ended in me being spanked and sent to my room. As I grew older, the spankings stopped and the 'talks" became life lessons. I, as much as I wanted to deny, loved and neede those talks. One talk I remember is when my heart was broken from finding out my bestfriends had betrayed my trust. I came home angry and greatly distressed. She hugged me and told me that I needed to be hurt like I was so I would grow into a stronger person.

I hated to admit she was right. I did learn from that hurt and like she predicted, became more emotionally aware of myself and in small terms, stronger.

I can't help but smile and laugh as this tiny, strong-willed woman gaily shows her technique for perfect patty flipping. I can chalk this moment up for being one of life's thiny lessons.