We ate out only twice in the first seven years we were married.  No money.  For food, or for baby sitters.  Every time we were driving cross country to a new duty station, I packed a jar of peanut butter, jelly, bread, an ice chest full of lunch meat, etc. and a big thermos of ice water.  Cups, plates, and napkins.  No soft drinks or potato chips.  Too expensive.

I still have a hard time spending money.  I think about how hard it was to make ends meet back then.  But as a result of all that "Making ends meet," I learned to be frugal, and how to make the money last before the month ran out.  God was good.  We may not have lived like kings, but we never went hungry.  Except once.

Scott was eleven or twelve, and by then, we could finance an occasional meal out.  Ken and Scott and I had gone to Tulsa for some reason, and we stopped at one of those all you can eat buffets.  Ken and I finished, but Scott went back for more.  And more.  And more.  After he had eaten four plates of food, I said, "I've never seen you eat like that before."  And he said, "That's because there never is enough when we eat at home."

   There were six of us to feed and I always had supper cooked at night.  Big meals.  Perhaps in learning to be frugal, I hadn't paid enough attention to the fact that when we ate dinner at home, there was never much left over.  Scott had eaten it all.  He had gone from being a little kid to a growing boy, and I had never fed a growing boy before.

Now they are all gone.  So cooking is no longer a joy to me unless someone comes over to eat with me.  Why cook.  I think of all the years I spent learning to cook.  But that talent is no longer needed.  You never know what you are going to miss when you grow old.  I miss watching Scott eat.   I miss cooking for all of them.