Life’s Funny…Until It’s Not™: Adjusting the Cooking Time
Life’s funny… until it’s not.
But somehow, we find a way through it.
We maneuver through the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Sometimes we handle what life throws at us like champions.
Other times, we’re standing in the middle of the room like a deer in headlights, trying to remember what we were looking for.
A lifetime looks different for everyone.
Sometimes we are only here for a short while.
Others live well past 100.
Some of us are healthy.
Some struggle with health issues for years.
As of this writing, my lifetime — 66 years and 7 months.
I want to keep myself healthy, happy, and balanced well into my 80s.
And then there are days that go left in an instant.
Like the day I found myself in a heated discussion with my 87-year-old mother.
What were we arguing about?
Salmon.
Yes — fish.
My mom had short-term memory issues and arthritis in her back and shoulders. But her all-time favorite joy in life was cooking. If she wasn’t in the kitchen making something, she was reading a cookbook for new ideas.
Cooking wasn’t just what she did.
It was who she was.
*As her limitations grew, so did her frustration. What once brought her joy became a reminder of what she couldn’t do the same way anymore.
One evening, I walked into the kitchen to start dinner and found her sitting in a chair, cookbook open, salmon ready for the oven.
We’d had many discussions about how to cook salmon — mostly because it’s the one thing I can never seem to get right.
So my first question was, “What are you doing?”
Now, I know you’re not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth… but there I was, ready to debate oven temperatures and cooking times.
My mother insisted we were doing it her way.
And so, like a good daughter — begrudgingly — I went along with her plan.
Until it didn’t quite work out.
Our oven doesn’t regulate properly. She’d forgotten that part. Dinner took longer than expected. There was tension. There was silence. There was adjusting.
And then there was salmon on the table.
I learned from my son when he was growing up that sometimes you have to pick your battles.
That night, I could have pushed. I could have corrected. I could have reminded her of everything she was forgetting.
Instead, we adjusted the cooking time.
And we enjoyed the salmon.
*My mom has since passed away.
And here’s what I know now.
I would give anything to sit in that kitchen again and argue about fish.
What felt like a sticky situation at the time… is now a memory I hold gently.
Because that wasn’t about salmon.
It was about a woman holding onto who she had always been.
It was about dignity.
It was about letting her lead — even if dinner was late.
It’s funny how one small moment can sum up a lifetime.
When I picture my mother now, I don’t see the hospital room.
I see her happy, reading her cookbooks.
And tonight, I’m cooking salmon for my dad.
Life keeps moving.
We adjust the temperature.
We extend the cooking time.
We sit at the table.
Because life is funny… until it’s not.
