Family Day

Photo credit: Erik Anestad / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

It feels like Sunday. Italian music on the stereo in the kitchen, pork roast in the oven, M stirring something delicious on the stove, two wine glasses ready to be filled with the red. And, permeating the space between all these homely things--nostalgia. This setup--minus the wine--reminds me of teenage Sundays in mom's kitchen, and later of grown-ups Sundays with friends, when I was the person by the stove, trying some of the delicious recipes stolen from people who loved good food. Simpler times, when all I needed to do is pick up the phone and home would be filled with jokes and laughter of close friends.

How I wish to introduce M to those times! But, no one has yet discovered how to turn back time, and all I have to offer are words soaked with memories. Even if we moved to the place where such dinners--and such friends--were possible, would it really be that way again? Or, did the winds of time blow away the lifestyle of the past?

In my heart and soul I long for Sundays, but in reality do they even exist enymore? I carry the curse of an immigrant: to me, the picture is frozen forever on the Sunday's scene, while in reality the world has moved on, and life with it; friends became strangers with their own busy lives and no time for dinners. Except, perhaps, with an advance notice and appointment. Maybe, in reality, I will never be able to re-create those Sundays for M, to introduce her to life I once had. But that doesn't mean I should stop trying.

Because, who knows, maybe someday somewhere we'll come across a few people who cherish the same things, the simpler life, and with a little luck, we'll call each others "friends."

Here's to friends and holidays that feel like Sundays of my youth!

M's fabulous pork roast -- Photo: @margoboz

Book: The Age of Miracles

A Novel by Karen Thompson Walker

The premise of the story was promising - a dystopian look at what would happen if the Earth inexplicably started slowing down its rotation. The problem was the narrator - 11-year-old Julia. Instead of high drama of looming catastrophe with all the possibilities of horrific personal stories that could have been told, we get the doubts and insecurities of a near-teenager coming of age in unusual circumstances - a casual setting of the 'slowing' as a background. At first it seems a nice way to tell the story of a dying planet through the eyes of a child. Soon though, it becomes clear that Julia (and the author through her) are more focused on exploring the girl's romantic interests and the threat of her own family falling apart, rather than getting into the effect a global tragedy can have on all of them and humanity in general. It also seems as if the plot itself gradually slows down with the earth's rotation and there are some seriously slow patches you'll have to pull through. I would have given it 2/5, were it not for the ending. Without giving anything away, I can only admit that it was sad, but well done. Finally the author's mastery of words, which came across only in sparse hints through the rest of the book, bloomed in full beauty in the last few paragraphs of the novel. And for that it deserves another notch: 3/5