A Lifetime of Memories
Because I have become so slow in my movements, I decided to prep the meal for fasting for Yom Kippur. Kelly asked for Gondi, a Persian soup that has meatballs made with ground chicken mixed with chickpea flour. I made the meatballs and froze them. He asked for rice with mushrooms, peas, and sautéed vermicelli. I sautéed those and some onions and put them aside. I peeked into my vegetable drawer and spied some snake beans, loobia. I cooked them as well. Picasso and Ebony were looking at me in askance. “What about us? You haven’t made us a decent meal in ages.”
“You are quite right,” I told them. So I cooked for them as well. By this time, I was getting tired and I had a sink full of pots and pans. With a deep sigh, I finished my chores.
Wearily, I took my cup of tea and headed for the bedroom. As I sat down on my armchair, I heard the trotting of the two horses that the police exercise each day during the warm season. They have been riding down our street ever since we moved here almost forty years ago. My children were small then, and I was a young mother.
Clip, clop, clip, clop… The sound of their hooves is music to my ears. It is a familiar sound repeating itself, even as the years sail by. It comforts me and puts a little smile on my face.
Almost forty years, a lifetime, and yet as if it were yesterday.