A Memory to Chew On

I walk into my Geemama's house one summer afternoon with my sister and cousin. I smell delicious cooking the minute I walk in the door. I walk into the dining room to investigate the source of the succulent aroma, and I see it; the plate of dark green kim and the steaming white rice are sitting on the dining room table waiting for me to chow down.

I sit down quickly and take the crisp, flaky piece of kim from my plate and wrap it around the hot gooey rice. I take a bite, and my mouth fills with flavors; the salty taste of the kim and the warmth of the rice make my stomach rumble.

I look to my left and watch my older sister casually munching on the kim, throwing one piece after another into her mouth, completely forgetting the rice altogether. On my right, my cousin is spooning small amounts of rice onto a leaf of kim before rolling it into a perfect cylinder and stuffing the whole thing in her mouth.

I sit back and take another bite. The flavors once again swirl and blend in my mouth, but this time, instead of tasting the grain of the rice and the salt of the kim, I taste the memories of my childhood, of snacking and dining on kim in the warmth and comfort of my family.