I still love my colander, the one I got as a shower gift in 1980. I confess I cannot remember who gave it to me, but I would wager that the giver has forgotten too. I do remember the light banter as my cousin Chara wrote down each gift in her expressive and curly cursive, so I could write a proper thank you, and the question about its correct spelling.

 

Colly has traveled with me to five homes in four states and three time zones. If she could talk, she would tell you about the frequency of spaghetti being served, and the sensation of steaming pasta and cool water colliding in her bowled embrace. She would perhaps comment on the color change when our diet shifted from whole wheat to corn noodles, and finally settled on brown rice. Colly might feel honored to have overheard the hundreds of blessings offered over her humble fare.

 

Some things slip through our remembrance.... as well they should. Keeping score of who got up with the baby, or who took out the garbage robs us of the food that really nourishes us. What is left behind are the hearty memories of shared meals and playful conversations.  The annoyances that are rinsed away leave us cleaner, cooler.

 

Drop in sometime on a Thursday. We will probably be just starting to spill the sauce and shake the Parmesan. Come early enough to hold hands for the blessing. It is always a good idea to give a proper thank you.

 

photo by Chara Odhner