We are all a product of our childhoods, A mixture of our life experiences
Melting together into a giant pot, 

stirred with the spoon of our upbringing, 

a dash of tribulation

for good measure.

The end result different depending on the chef,

On the pot,

On the ingredients,

Each unique in some way

Some are a bland offering to the world, offering little 

others pretentious 

or disappointing,

Some are works of art that leave the world a better place for their prescence

Most are a mixture of sweet and sour,

equal parts good and bad

I’ve been in the kitchen for so long,

Sometimes I wonder if the finished product will ever arrive,

Other times I’m grateful for each new addition 

I’m not done yet, 

but I hope the end result will be one I can look back on with pride,

Confident the chef did well 

with what life has given