With the signal unreliable and the day dragging on, my mother-in-law, ignoring my sister-in-law’s tantrums, eagerly dumped the red mushrooms into the pot, cooking them until the hot, bubbling aroma filled the air and chased away the chill of the mountains.
Part 5
Soon, the pot was overflowing with the rich, fresh aroma of the mushrooms, drawing my father-in-law and my husband toward it. My mother-in-law quickly realized that the small amount of mushrooms I had picked wasn’t enough to feed everyone. With a clever glint in her eye, she addressed me while serving the meal.
“Sarah, don’t eat these wild mushrooms with your pregnant belly,” she said, handing me a steamed bun from her bag. “Just have these with some water.”
The mushroom soup was divided into four bowls and my mother-in-law made sure that the bowl with the most mushrooms went to my sister-in-law, who was busy fiddling with her Smartphone. I stood quietly, clutching my dry steamed buns, waiting for them to dig in.