They say confession is good for the soul, and this letter is about confessing something to someone. This will not be pretty.
But after 25 years, I feel it has to be done.
I love you to death. I do. You guys have treated me like your own daughter for over two decades. We’ve had our ups and downs, and even though life is like a roller coaster in our family, I have to confess something to y’all, and you won’t like it.
I despise Cajun food.
Ok, “despise” is a harsh term. “Loathe” comes closer to the disgust I feel when I try to ingest Cajun food. It tastes like dirt to me. Dad always thinks he is fixing a special treat for me when he makes his famous Shrimp Gumbo. And he is, judging by the excited faces of the rest of the family as they wait, salivating for a bowl of your majikal stew. But every…single…time I have tried it, it feels like I am swallowing dirt-covered food. And I should know what dirt tastes like! In 25 years I have not been able to adapt to Cajun food, and I think it is safe to say, I never will. I’m sorry, but next time you are serving Cajun I am running to Sonic.
And don’t get me started on the Ox-Tail Soup.