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Jean Gatine" <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: Sun Aug 26, 2001 1:21 pm
Subject: Down the Tunnel of Time to History Back
On James' machine because Said is
online. He is either calling his
girlfriend, or he is surfing the web with her showing her how to find
jobs and housing. Funny how he can show her those things and not
utilize them himself. LOL Secretly though, between you and me, I
wouldn't mind the both of them staying as long as they needed to.
This morning Joy and I were in the kitchen, washing rice, cutting up
meat, working like a team. I thought as I was swirling the rice
around in the milky waste water that "Mothers" and their "daughters"
have done this very thing a million billion times over the cycle of
time. Hand her the onion, instruct her to cut off the end first to
get a flat surface to cut some more. Turn down the heat under the fry
pan. Put on the coffee. Wash a dish or two.
I paused in our Sunday Morning ritual of cooking a big meal and
looked out the window and it is sunny, not hot, blue skies, few
random clouds grazing like sheep on the horizon. My flowers from
Paulo towering over my cactus and spring fern at my kitchen window
and I thought, this is my life, this is THE life, of cooking for
family, passing down secrets to the youngsters, washing rice.
No Gohan, Pretty Soon Die! (I'm thinking of Alcina laughing down
there in the islands and reaching for the Furukake)
But it's so classic. Joy was chattering on about this Phillipino
breakfast with marinated meat over rice with fresh tomatoes and eggs
over easy and I thought about the beef set aside for tonight's dinner
and thought better of it...no fresh tomatoes handy is all.
But there was a moment there, a moment to bronze and keep forever,
that sweet peaceful span of time where Joy is learning how to master
the spatula as I held back helping, just washing the rice and
watching her learn her skills. I felt tied to all mothers. I felt
myself fall back into the tunnel of time and I realized, I'm doing my
job as a human right now, preparing the young to be independent.
Preparing for the day when I'm no longer here to help her with eggs
over easy. I wiped a tear away and said nothing.
So do I really mind that Said takes the phone line, or that Joy is
bumping about that tiny kitchen with me? Nope. It allowed me to feel
akin to all mothers, down the tunnel of time into history back.
Huddling about the fire, smoke in our eyes, poking the embers,
waiting for that rabbit to cook and keeping the babies from touching
Just putting my handprint on the cave wall of time with the clay
Just through I'd share.
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