It was about ten years ago. It was a cold, wet and dark winter day. A fine rain was falling, which left my clothes wet through and froze my bones. I was walking over to visit my Dad. Although his house was only a short walk from mine, I was already wet and suffering. I knocked on his door and stepped in. A warm steam was floating from the kitchen. It touched my nose and suddenly I was eight years old again. Dad was making Grandma’s special sauce (酱料).

When I was growing up, every Sunday Grandma would make us an Italian feast. She would cook her spaghetti (意大利面) sauce for hours. Then she would drop in potatoes, chicken, meat balls, sausage and sometimes even steak (牛排). It always left our stomachs full, our hearts happy, and the house smelling sweet.

I sat down while Dad made me a plate. It felt so good having a meal like I used to when I was a boy. We talked about those old times and laughed over the memories both good and bad. And I noticed something to. I didn’t feel cold anymore. Oh, my clothes were still wet from the rain but my heart was warm, my spirit was light, and both my face and stomach were smiling.

Dad and Grandma have been gone for years now. I still miss them both every single day. And although my daughter and I both know how to make Grandma’s special sauce, we don’t cook it as often as we can. Maybe it is because no matter how hard I try, I can never get it 100% right. I think that maybe I am missing a material. Or maybe it was just the Love with which Grandma and Dad cooked it that made it so delicious.

I decided to make the food filled with love at last.

I want to give a taste of love to the seniors in the nursing home nearby.

A man came home from work late again, tired and annoyed, to find his 5-year-old son waiting for him at the door. “Daddy, may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure, what is it?” replied the man.

“Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?”

“That’s none of your business. What makes you ask such a thing?” the man said angrily.

“I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?” pleaded (恳求) the little boy.

“If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour.”

“Oh,” the little boy replied, head bowed.

Looking up, he said, “Daddy, may I borrow $10.00, please?”

The father was angry. “If the only reason why you want to know how much money I make is just that you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you’re being so selfish.

I work long, hard hours every day and don’t have time for such childish games.”

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and started to get even madder about the little boy’s questioning. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money. After an hour or so, the man calmed down, and started to think he might have been a little hard on his son. Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00 and he really didn’t ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy’s room and opened the door.

“Are you asleep, son?” he asked.

“No daddy, I’m awake,” replied the boy.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier,” said the man.

“It’s been a long day and I took my aggravation (激怒) out on you. Here’s that $10.00 you asked for.”

The little boy sat straight up, beaming (笑容满面). “Oh, thank you daddy,” he yelled.

Then, the little boy reached under his pillow, and pulled out some crumpled (变皱的) bills.

After hearing what the boy said, the man felt so sorry for what he had said to his son.