Resha

I was six-years-old when I dragged a chair bigger than my entire body into the kitchen and climbed up to reach the cabinets. My mom stood behind to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. I started pulling ingredients: vanilla extract, honey, salt, and a tiny box of Jiffy Cornbread Mix. She grabbed a bowl, wooden spoon, eggs, butter, and milk and placed them in front of me.

“Go ahead, you can do it,” she said. I opened the box of cornbread mix and poured the contents into the bowl. My mom looked around for a measuring cup and when she found it she told me, “Pour the milk until it reaches this line.” She measured out the other ingredients, and I grabbed the egg. “Be careful with that,” she said. Sure enough, I cracked it into the bowl along with a few tiny shell pieces—but my mom assured me that even the best cooks make mistakes.