Moving around our kitchen, I’m a little more aware of the splatters on the wall, how clean the stove top is these days since I don’t “cook” and my sister’s poem that hangs on the wall. I look at it often. Sometimes I feel it’s true (the love part) and sometimes it couldn’t be fur
ther from my experience. And then I feel sad, because I never want to look back on a time behind me as the fullest of my life, like all the fullness could be over. It seems each year in these times of mine feels fuller and fuller. Music with Daniel and Rick, cooking like a maniac, running a small business that I love, singing with a choir, loving our Sonoma place, our dogs, each other, my huge family of friends…it’s so full. May it stay so.And as Daniel declared he can take the raw food no more, he must have MEAT!, I served the Tomato Soup and the Greek Salad. Not before I made him take the photos, though. We continued to argue through most of dinner. About nothi
ng. About “I am aggravated, so it’s your fault” kind of stuff. Stupid frustrations of living with a person who is as dynamic and headstrong as yourself. Who doesn’t see it your way. Feels like most of the time. But then we ended up singing songs in the kitchen, which is my favorite thing in the world. That and making food: Heaven. I love him for that, making our kitchen heaven.I’m sure that is what Susan meant for me, for us, when she gave the poem as a wedding gift. Letting the loving times fill us up.
