Dear Journal, There’s something magical about walking through the front door and hearing the sounds of home. Today, it was the gentle clatter of dishes and the unmistakable aroma of something wonderful simmering in the kitchen. Mama always knows how to make an entrance special—and let’s be honest, she probably planned it that way. The first thing I noticed as I stepped into the kitchen were the decorative plates hanging on the wall. Each one features a flower from a chapter of my journey so far, placed carefully by Mama over the year. It’s her way of showing that, even if I’m chasing adventures far away, she and my dads are always here, following along and cheering me on. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me feel so connected. I didn’t even get a chance to unpack before she handed me an apron and insisted we start cooking. Cooking has always been our thing—a language we speak without words. It’s where she shares stories of her childhood, the recipes she learned from her own mama, and little nuggets of wisdom she sneaks in when I’m distracted by chopping onions. Tonight, we’re making something special—her famous Adobo. It’s a dish that feels like it carries generations of love in every bite. I was in charge of peeling and chopping, and honestly, it was therapeutic. There’s a rhythm to it—the sound of the knife against the cutting board, the steam rising from the pot, and the way Mama hums a little tune while stirring, and the smell is just unbelievable. As we worked, we talked about everything and nothing. She teased me about my tan lines and the ridiculous number of photos I took on my trip, but she also reminded me of how proud she is of the life I’m building. Her support, along with my dads’, is something I’ll never take for granted. They’ve created a family where love is the only thing that matters, and it’s a reminder that family isn’t about how you’re connected—it’s about how you show up for each other. Later, as we sat around the table with bowls of stew and fresh bread, the kitchen filled with laughter and warmth. My dads cracked jokes, and Mama rolled her eyes in that affectionate way that says, “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.” It felt so good to be surrounded by the people who know me best, who’ve always encouraged me to chase my dreams while keeping a place ready for me to come home to. Every dish really does tell a story, and this is one of my favourites. Catch you later, Alex
