Memories of Morning Rituals
It was about 7:30 in the morning. The weather was beautiful. Today I am going to see my mother’s very good friend. Her niece and I were going to take her out for lunch, but she said that she cooks better than any restaurant. Who are we to argue with such an amazing ninety year old lady? Since a restaurant was not to be, I decided to get miniature pastries for dessert. These pastries taste as delicious as the ones in Tehran, and that is saying something.
Since I ordered a ride for ten o’clock, I thought it is better to get them early and leave them in the fridge until my ride came to pick me up.
So there I was at 7:30 in the morning, trundling off with my sassy red walker down the street to Lulu’s. It has been a long while since I went there. As I walked I remembered the number of times Peter and I went there for our morning coffee and pastry. If it was winter Peter would say, “Lulu’s or porridge?” I would look at him in askance. Most times he would opt for porridge. I knew he would. He loved the way I prepared it for him. I put in walnuts, chopped apples, bananas, cranberries, allspice and cinnamon. I soaked it for about a half hour while he got ready for the day, then I slowly stirred and stirred on a low fire. When the water evaporated, I added milk and topped it with honey. He loved it. It was creamy, hearty and delicious! He especially loved it in winter when the weather outside was cold.
The radio would play classical music in the kitchen. Outside the window where the rose bush nestled, perhaps snowflakes meandered to the ground, creating a picturesque atmosphere. When we had done breakfasting, he reluctantly walked to his car, all bundled up. He would wear one of his two fur Cossack hats to keep his bald head warm. He believed that the porridge warmed his insides and prevented colds. I truly believe it did also.
But some mornings he would be in a hurry. Perhaps he had an appointment at the office, or a closing or court. On those days, we would walk arm in arm to the bakery. It was always welcoming there. The staff greeted us by name. The place was cheery and cozy. They decorated the shop according to the season, giving it a welcoming atmosphere. We found a table and put our belongings there. They knew which coffees we preferred so they would start to prepare them as soon as we entered. Peter liked plain American coffee while I preferred a frothy café au lait. We would sip our coffees and nibble at our pastries. After we were done, if it was a Thursday or a Friday, he would escort me to the hair salon or nail salon across the street, otherwise we would walk back home. He would get into his car and leave for work and I would go in and start my chores.
Very often friends would drop by unannounced. It was something that was acceptable at our home. In those days the back door was always open, you could turn the handle and walk in. Now I am alone I do not have that sense of safety anymore. I lock the door. Then there were always friends dropping by. If Peter did not have court appearances or appointments, he preferred to work from home. When someone came, if he were not too busy, it would be a good excuse for Peter to walk to Lulu’s to buy miniature pastries. We would all sit around the kitchen table, socializing and having our tea.
As I walked down to Lulu’s this morning, I recalled those times. What beautiful times they were. How lucky we were to have each other. I seldom go there now. I am not used to sitting down at a table eating or drinking coffee alone. It makes me uncomfortable. Instead, at home, I carry my tea tray upstairs and sit in front of the television. Pictures of the two of us smiling look at me. I smile back and sip my tea. I imagine him sitting next to me on his recliner, his legs outstretched, sipping his tea, and if I had baked something, nibbling at it. Yes, we were happy and content together. Now I have my sweet memories to keep me company. As long as I have them, I shall not feel so alone.