(2014·淮北一模)I grew up with a fat dad — 450 pounds at his heaviest. Every week he would try a new diet, and my family ended up eating whatever strange food he was trying at that moment.
After my thirdgrade year, my dad landed a lifechanging job in Manhattan. My mom, my little sister and I had to move away from our hometown, Chicago, and leave my grandmother and her beautiful food behind.
Leaving my grandmother was far more frightening than the move to New York City. There would be no more special weekends at my grandmother's house, the only place I can remember feeling happy, safe and nourished (有营养的). It was what I desired. In this new city, I felt extremely alone and lost, and I missed my grandmother terribly.
My grandmother knew just how I felt — And she knew the cure. Every week, she would send me a card with a $20 bill, a recipe and a list of what to buy at the market. It kept us bonded, and her recipes filled my body and soul.
Over the years, I have grown to better understand my father's struggles with weight and the toll (代价) it took on him and those who love him. I have come to realize he was driven not by vanity (自负) or selfishness as much as by a deep pain. And in spite of growing up in such an unhealthy eating environment (or perhaps because of it), as an adult I found a passion and a career as a nutrition consultant.
Today, my father weighs 220 pounds and is a vegan (素食者). How he got there is a story I hope to share in the coming weeks. More importantly, food is no longer a barrier that keeps us apart, but a bridge that keeps us connected. There is nothing my dad enjoys more than talking with me about dietary theories and his weightloss victories. And now I am the one regularly sending recipe cards to my father's house, just as my grandmother did for me.