If You’re Only Going to Ask Me About Food, Maybe It’s Best You Don’t Call Me Anymore! I Have More Important Things to Discuss Than Daily Chats About Meals, Alright Mum? Do We Have an Understanding?

If you only ever ask me about food, you’d better stop calling! I’ve got bigger things on my mind than chatting about meals all day, okay love? Got that?

Emily kept the phone pressed to her ear, tears welling up but refusing to fall. The sting in her chest was huge when her son, James, tossed those sharp words at her.

“Alright, love, we’ll talk tomorrow,” her mother managed to say. In the next few seconds, Emilys whole life flashed before her eyes. She saw James as a tiny babe on her breast, his little hand tangled in her hair, his first scraped knee, the warm hug and the tears that soaked her shirt after his first school flop. She remembered the day she saw him off at the train station, baggage in tow, heading off to university. Shed been so proud of him

Emily stayed with the phone glued to her ear long after the call ended. The house smelled of vegetable soup with fresh parsley, a scent that used to calm her but now just scraped at the emptiness in her chest. She set the phone down, grabbed the wooden spoon and started stirring mechanically. Her gaze drifted to the fogged window where, flickering, the flat opposite on the second floor could be seen. Upstairs, Auntie Nancy was watering her flowers every morning. She also has a boy in London, Emily thought.

These days the tears had hardened. James wasnt the baby shed once been the world for; he was a grown man, busy on his own two feet. And she she was retired. Shed spent years in a big factory as an engineer, respected, the kind of woman who made heads turn when she walked into a room. Now she was old, alone, and the highlight of her day was talking to her son. Whenever his name lit up the screen, her heart gave a little jump. And no matter how many things she wanted to tell him, she always fell back on the same question: James, what did you eat today?

Three days passed without a call. Emily turned on the radio, couldnt stand the silence. She put the kettle on, and to fill the quiet she started talking to James in a low voice, as if he were on the line:

James, its sunny but windy today. Grab that blue scarf. And dont forget if you do forget, thats fine, I still love you.

The phone finally rang that evening, his name lighting up the screen.

Mum Im sorry. Ive been angry and stupid. The boss gave me a dressingdown, my pay got delayed. I snapped at the wrong people. At you. You know what the worst part was, Mum? he said, his voice low. The courier called, asked where to leave the parcel. I just said the front door. Two hours later I got home to find a soggy box, inside the pot Id ordered two weeks ago. I laughed at myself I hadnt even had time to eat in days.

Emily didnt know what to say. She sank into her chair.

Mum we can talk about the weather, about the roast, but promise me if I start going off again, youll tell me. Dont let me lose myself.

Ill whisper that, she replied. But you know, James, What did you eat? is my way of reaching out when youre far away. Its my way of feeding you, even if I cant tug at your shirt anymore.

He stayed quiet for a while, and the silence didnt feel cold.

Ill come over tomorrow, he said finally, late in the night. Not for a holiday, not when the calendar frees up. Tomorrow.

When we get old, we live on the little bits our kids drop into our hands each day: Did you eat?, Hows the weather?. Theyre not trivial theyre the crumbs that keep us close. So dont burn those bridges with harsh words. Slip in a I love you through a recipe or a weather forecast.

And dont forget, if impatience or pride starts to gnaw at you:

If you only ever ask me about food, youd better not call again!

It hurts, because sometimes the only way we can say I love you is through food. A daily I love you, even in two simple questions, can hold a whole heart together.

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