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Dad's Grilling Gear
Ever since 1995, there stood that coal-black case in the corner of our backyard. Although it was covered in dust, so much I remember scribbling my name on it with my teeny tiny fingertips, you could not imagine the whole different world it held inside. Heavy as gold, yet silver in color was what unfolded in that heavy rusty case. Giant fork-looking figures and huge sharp-looking tweezers, almost as big as a shark, were some of the magical gear my father possessed. As years went on and I’d learned how to ride a bike, I started to make more sense of what the whole idea of this dusty black case was about. At this point I was sure of something, it made dad extremely happy. A couple of more years went on and I learned even more things about the untouchable black case. I now knew it had a connection with that huge, metallic, square-looking figure that just stood in the back of our yard. Little did I know that the black case and the metallic figure made the most amazing food, which turned out to be the reason why dad smiled so much whenever he put his hands on that very black case. I continued growing, enough to be bigger than both the black case and the metallic box, which turned out to be not big anymore. The case was still heavy, but manageable, and the gear inside it was still silver colored and shiny, and I could finally make sense that these gigantic looking tools were nothing more than dad’s grilling gear and the metallic figure was of course, dad’s very own grill. Every Saturday and Sunday since I can remember, dad would anxiously look at the kitchen clock and wait for it to be 2 o’ clock in the afternoon so he could pick up his black case with all his grilling gear inside it and make his way straight to the grill in our backyard. After that, he would make countless trips, back and forth between the kitchen and our backyard to bring out all the delicious ingredients and food he was going to prepare. Up until today, dad continues to do this as a life-long routine. He says he’s the best, and I have to agree, I’ve never seen such magic happen anywhere else but at dad’s grill. Years will go on, and so will this tradition, and when I have kids of my own I’ll be sure to tell them the magical story of the dusty black suitcase and the silver, box-like figure.
Andrea Fernandez
