It was 3:00 pm sharp on my wristwatch when I was let off from the campus. Walking back was beginning to be a difficult task, as the sun in the sky was hidden by the clouds. The warmth from the sun that I was used to enveloping me in a comforting hug was absent. The wind was picking up pace, causing my hair to hit my face violently. Fumbling with my bag, I managed to get out my emergency bobby pin pack and secured my hair with it. Now that my vision was no longer obscured by hair, I resumed my walk.
The golden glow from the sun that fell on the pavement, making the granite glitter like sparkles, was no longer there. The pavement was just dull and boring. Grasping the sweater tighter to myself as the chill was getting to me, I hurried back home, my pace changing from walking to jogging. A few minutes on the path, and I knew I couldn't do this anymore. I was now starting to experience shivers because of the cold, causing me to have goosebumps across my skin. Looking around, I finally spotted a cab and waved my hand to stop it.
Getting in, I quickly relayed the directions while I started rubbing my hands in a vain effort to warm up. Seeing my house, I thanked the cab driver, paid my fare, and rushed home. The door opened, and my grandma greeted me with a tight hug. I didn't realize, but I was shaking badly because of the cold. My worried grandma told me to freshen up quickly and come to the kitchen.
That was my cue, and I rushed to my room. Setting my bag aside, I changed into my comfy, warm, and cozy pajamas and slippers. Pulling out the bobby pins, I combed my hair before heading to the kitchen.
As I opened the door, I was immediately hit by the warm and cozy atmosphere in the kitchen. Closing the door behind me, I gave my mom a hug, asking her how she was feeling. My shivering had stopped, thankfully, but my fingers were still ice-cold, and it was difficult to do even menial tasks. Going to the stove, I decided to warm my hands on it and, at the same time, peek at what my grandma was cooking.
My sneaky peeking was successful, and I caught a glimpse of what was in the pot before she covered it with a lid. Smiling to myself in anticipation, I watched grandma bustle around the kitchen making some kind of warm drink. With my hands now warm, I sat with my mom and watched grandma bustle around. She put a mug in front of me and urged me to drink it up, saying it would make me feel better. It was so cute, the marshmallow kitty with its paws floating in chocolate. You guessed it right; my grandma made me 'Hot Chocolate', and it was adorable.
Though I don't drink or eat chocolate, I didn't have it in me to say no to her, so I drank it. For most, I would straight-out say no, but my mom and grandma were not on that list. Sipping on it, I felt the warm, viscous, sweet, creamy liquid with a velvety texture run down my throat and warm me up. There was a hint of pistachio left in my mouth as an after-taste to the sip, reminding me of the popular saying that family has their own recipe for 'Hot Chocolate'. Maybe this is our secret recipe. I would definitely ask my younger siblings, as they are frequent drinkers of hot chocolate. Do you have your own family recipe for 'Hot Chocolate'?
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Comments (3)
Just like Shirley Belk below, I tasted that hint of pistachio too! It sounds delightful. I don't know anybody else who writes about the sensations of good food and drink as well as you do! So many would-be writers on that subject are prone to skipping over the descriptive language required, on the assumption readers will already know what the comestible in question tastes like. You're one of the very few who recognises that food and drink are more than just a taste, but an entire sensory experience, and that the situation in which you consume them is itself an influence on your enjoyment. Here, for example, I can't think of a better time for hot chocolate! Sounds like a chilly afternoon indeed, and I think I was as glad to get home as you were. Grandma was absolutely right about what you needed, and a little hot chocolate every now and then can't do any harm. I'm very impressed, by the way, by your health-consciousness and self-restraint! When I was your age I ate far too much chocolate, and as a child hot chocolate was the only hot drink I'd go near! On which subject, to answer your question we don't have a secret family recipe for the same, but I do remember the very first time I had proper hot chocolate with whipped cream (then a very new thing in Britain). I'd just turned seven years of age, and it was also my first trip to a shopping centre. I really did see the high life that day!
This article stands out with its quality writing and informative approach.
this was just beautiful! I love how the comparisons of a sunny day to a cold one were made. I could feel the love from the kitchen and taste the hint of the pistachio.