Kill the fatted pork sausages

When my bro went off to college, every time he came home, he was treated like a royal personage on a visit. I didn't feel jealous about it - but I felt the fuss was unwarranted. When I went off to college though, my Mum started something new entirely. Pork sausages. Pork or sausages were nothing new in my house; what was new, though, was that Mum would move heaven and earth to ensure that atleast 1 pack of pork sausages were in the freezer if "Dan is coming home". Sometimes, if my visit was a long one, there would be two packs, plus bacon, ham, salami and so on and so forth. But whatever happened - that one pack of pork sausages would be there in the freezer. What felt better was that this pack was completely at my disposal. I've fried those sausages and devoured them at 7 am in the morning, after jumping off the Nilagiri Express (coming back home from college) at times, and I've patiently waited till 3 in the afternoon to cook them, too. The best part? Mum never mentioned a word such as "I'm doing this for you" or anything. She just would mention that sausages were in the freezer, and that was that. For those of you who've been to a hostel which is nearly 700 km from home for four years, you would know the priceless value of such a simple gesture when you walk into your house (Mind you, I had tonnes of other things going for me at home; the pork sausages was the only factor that was unchanging, ever-present and a cherished memory of coming back home). For this, and all the other stops pulled out when your sons returned home from hostel, thanks Mum.