Scene: a shopping center in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles
“My old roommate moved out and took all the kitchen things. I need dishes for my place. I gave my Japanese china to a friend when I moved out of a storage awhile back.”
And so my friend from the south bay drifted to the one place I knew would have exactly what I’d wanted.
We walked past the rows of groceries. I’ll get some gyoza after I have a pan to cook them with.
As we got to the dishes I ooo’d and ah’d like a little girl at a toy store. What kind of a woman was I without having things to even cook my everyday foods?
I wanted everything to sync. My dreams were garden inspired: strawberry plates, pots, and an apron to match. Roses lined the china bowls in varying sizes. The baking wares would come later.
A smile drew across my face yet again. I was finally going to have the responsibilities of my own kitchen. I couldn’t wait to get home.
As we got to the counter my friend stopped me.
“I’ve got this. You paid a lot to even get into that place. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can do it.” I told him.
“No. It’s really ok Jena. You can get your baking stuff. Just cook for me sometime?”
We packed up the car to go. I hugged my friend.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because you’re wonderful and you deserve it.”