I began baking Christmas gingerbread in the summer hoping to unlock my relationship with my parents [Video]

This First Person column is written by Agata Antonow, who lives in Hamilton. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.

I set down my bags, peeked into the kitchen and shivered. After spending several years in the Maritimes, I moved back to Hamilton to look after my mom’s home in April. The house was quiet and empty, but it was the kitchen that felt haunted by the past. My mother has a different stove and fridge but the bones of the room are all there. The same wood and white cupboards, the same stainless steel sink and burgundy tile. 

In a flash, I’m eight and watching my late father prepare pickled herring in our kitchen. I turned away from the sourness back then, but today, what I wouldn’t give to have a taste. At nine, I was pleading for peanut butter sandwiches for my school lunch, turning my nose …