Popcorn is my Soul Food

My dad taught me how to make popcorn. He’d pour oil into a big pot, and turn the flame up high, until that oil got hot. Real hot. Then he’d quickly add the perfect amount of kernels, so they were edge-to-edge on the bottom. Lid on — then he’d keep shaking that pot, so each kernel stayed consistently heated. Until they all seemingly popped at once.

Sometimes he’d put in too much and the popcorn would would lift the lid off. I liked when that happened. I think he did too.

I still make it that way. No microwave popcorn here. On top, I put butter, salt, and parmesan. Indulgent. Oh, and I eat my popcorn with a spoon. Try it, you’ll like it.

Sometimes I have it for dinner. I bring a big bowl to the couch, and my dog patiently waits for me to drop a piece. She never waits too long.

So this week, I raise a popcorn-filled spoon to you, Dad.

Thanks for teaching me how to make popcorn, and all the other important things in life.

Little did you know the memories you were making.

Miss you.