Desi Witch

I met a woman today. I didn't think I could fall in love again - but I have. I want to sit at her feet and worship her. I want to kiss her genius hands. See, I had a lady come home to cook for me today. She's a middle aged Gujarati woman who cooks like my mother does. In 3 hours, she had made 4 different and complex vegetable dishes and more than 2 dozen chapattis. And then she had the dishwasher loaded and the kitchen spotlessly clean. YES! In 3 hours! Just making the chapattis would have taken me about 6 hours. And they would not have been the perfectly round, moon-shaped, gorgeous , delicious pieces of bread that she made. And the vegetables! I never thought turnips could taste that marvelous. And oh the aloo-methi, the gobi and the doodhi! I want to write poems singing her praises. Something like:
Dear Dear Cook,
You're # 1
In my book.
I'm the fish
You're the hook.
The chapattis you made
My whole world shook.
Hiring you was
the best Project
I undertook.
Dear Dear Cook...

[Note to self: Consider alternate career in poetry writing.]

All day I have been marveling at how lucky I am to have found her. I've also had mild panic attacks and pangs of fear stab my heart. What if she gets so many clients that she will refuse to come to my home every week? What if there's another terrorist attack on the tube and she's travelling on it? What if she wins the lottery and doesn't want to do this anymore?
I know I'm being irrational, but that's what happens when you fall truly madly deeply in love. Also I cannot imagine going back to cooking again.

Because witches make potions, not parathaas.