My uncle is a really good man. One of those people who, if he notices your coat is unbuttoned, immediately makes you some tea to make sure you don’t catch a cold. If he sees you upset, he puts a bowl of soup in front of you. And if you show up without a bag, he packs you a lunch—no questions asked.
He had a tough life. He grew up in a family where “I love you” was replaced with “go milk the cow” or “where did you put the axe?” Few clothes, even less food, and beatings were about the only form of attention. So when he became a father, my uncle truly believed he was doing everything right: his child had clothes, food, and a warm place to sleep. In his mind, what else could a kid possibly need? (But that’s a story for another time.)
What he didn’t understand was that his niece—my cousin—also needed other things: validation, patience, trust, a hug for no reason. But my uncle stayed loyal to the universal principle of his generation: “Have you eaten? Then you’re fine.”
This week, I went to visit them. I hadn’t even stepped inside before I was offered food—twice—and a soft chair to “sit and recover.” Apparently, I looked tired and, of course, too skinny—so I got a platter with pizza, some stuffed cabbage rolls, and a spoonful of vegetable spread, “just to taste, not much.”
When I got up to leave, my uncle’s eyes went wide:
— “Wait, you’re leaving without a package!”
Within two minutes, the pizza was wrapped in napkins (eco-friendly but completely sticky), and a jar of pickles was stuffed into four supermarket bags. At that moment, I felt ready for any kind of apocalypse.
I stepped outside with my cousin, said goodbye, when suddenly I saw my uncle running toward us… holding a pickle.
— “Alinooo! You HAVE to taste it NOW!”
He practically shoved the pickle into my hand with an enthusiasm that would make any Netflix chef jealous. Juice dripped onto my jacket, and he looked at me with big, childlike eyes, waiting for my verdict. So I took a bite.
— “These are the best pickles ever, Uncle! You’re a master!”
— “See? I told you! I’ll give you more!”
I grabbed the bag with the rest of the pickles, shouted a “Thanks!” around the corner, and walked off giggling, jacket wet, heart warm.
It’s really sweet to have an uncle who loves you in his own way. Even if sometimes… it’s a bit too much. For your diet. For your clean clothes. For the peace of the neighborhood.