If All You Want to Talk About is Food, Maybe Don’t Call Me Anymore! I’ve Got More Important Things to Discuss Than Chit-Chatting About Meals Daily, Alright Mum? Do We Have an Understanding?

If all you ever asked me about was food, you might as well stop calling. Ive got bigger things on my mind than chatting about meals every single day, alright, Mum? Got that?

Rachel held the phone to her ear, her eyes flashing with tears that refused to spill. The sting in her voice was rawthe sort of wound a sons sharp words can carve into a mothers heart.

Alright, love. Well talk tomorrow, she managed to mutter. In those seconds her whole life flashed back. She saw a tiny version of me nursing at her breast, my little hand tangled in her hair, the first time I sobbed over a scraped knee. She remembered the warm hug and the tears that soaked her cardigan after my first school failure. She pictured the day I boarded the train with a suitcase full of books, heading off to university, and the pride that swelled inside her.

The call finally dropped, but Rachel kept the phone pressed to her cheek long after. The house smelled of simmering vegetable soup and fresh dillscents that used to soothe her, now only stirred an empty ache in her chest. She set the handset down, grabbed a wooden spoon and began stirring mechanically. Her gaze drifted to the fogged window, where the neighbourhood block glimmered through the mist. On the second floor, Aunt Cindy was watering her roses, as shed done every morning. Shes got a son off in London, Rachel thought.

Now, the tears were frozen in her eyes. Michael, the name shed given me, was no longer that helpless infant shed once cradled. I was a grown man, busy with work, standing on my own two feet. And sheshe was retired, a former engineer from the big factory down the road, respected by all who knew her. The clink of glass would stop whenever she entered a room. Today she was old, alone, and her greatest joy was hearing my voice. When the screen lit up with my name, her heart would leap. And no matter how much she wanted to say, she kept asking the same thing: Michael, what have you eaten today?

Three days passed without a call. Rachel switched on the radio, unable to bear the silence any longer. She brewed a cup of tea and, to fill the void, spoke softly as if I were on the line:

Michael, its sunny but the wind is biting. Grab that blue scarf. And dont forget even if you forget, I still love you.

The phone finally rang that evening. My name lit up the display.

Mum Im sorry. Ive been shorttempered and stupid. The boss yelled at me, I ran late and my cash was delayed. I took it out on the wrong personon you. You know what the worst part is, Mum? I got a call from the courier asking where to leave the package. I told him, At the door. Two hours later I got home to find a soggy parcel. Inside was a pot Id ordered two weeks ago. I laughed at myself, because I hadnt even managed to eat in the past two days.

I didnt know what to say. I sank into the chair.

Mum we can talk about the weather, or about the roast, but promise me if I slip up again, youll tell me. Dont let me lose myself.

Ill tell you, she whispered. But you need to know, Michael, What did you eat? is my way of reaching out when youre far away. Its how I keep feeding you, even if I cant stitch your shirt anymore.

He was silent for a long moment, and the hush that fell was no longer cold.

Ill come round tomorrow, he finally said, not when the calendar frees up, just tomorrow.

When we grow old, we live on the little fragments our children drop into our laps each day: Did you eat? Hows the weather? Theyre not trivial; theyre the breadcrumbs that keep us close. So dont burn those bridges with harsh words. Slip in an I love you with a recipe or a weather forecast.

And never forget, if impatience or pride starts to gnaw at you, remember:

If all you ever ask me about is food, you might as well stop calling

It hurts, because sometimes the only way we manage to say I love you is through those two simple questions. A daily I love you, even if it comes wrapped in a couple of queries, holds a whole heart together.

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