I am a reluctant writer. And an even more reluctant sharer of what I write. I am the sort of person who will write a novel in a frenzy in 30 days, and then delay sending a pitch to a publisher for 300 days.
Also, I am a shy person, and I really can’t believe anyone would want to read what I write. The act of sending your work out to the world sounds almost too brash to me. An act of incandescent bravery. It’s akin to me claiming to climb Mt.Everest next year when I feel I can barely run a sub-25 minute 5k.
But I have a few good people in my life who encourage me to write. They push me to submit what I write here and there. When in the mood, I oblige them.
I sound terribly vain and egotistical, but honestly, that front hides a most vulnerable mouse – me. It’s not vanity. It’s being vulnerable that scares me.
Fear, though, should not stop us. It can embolden us to see what lies in the trembling shivers of our hearts.
Last year, in December, a story came to me unbidden. I wrote it. A friend asked me to submit it to a literary magazine. I was in a good mood. I agreed.
Today, that magazine, Hippocampus, published that piece.
You can read it here:
I wrote this story because I felt pained at the fragility of our memories. So much time we have. So little we remember of it. We take for granted the minutes that Time grants us. Before we know it, those minutes have become years.
Years where we have strutted our stuff, sleepwalked our way through zombie days of existence, and taken all too casually the people we love.
I wish I could undo some of my years. I can’t. But I wish you not to be me.
Stay brave with the light of your heart. And the next time you have food prepared with love by someone you deeply love, pause a while.
That food is a story. It’s a memory. It’s a year of our life. Be loved.
This story is dedicated to Poodle – my food partner for life. So many food memories we have shared for 20 years. Last year, on this day, we were gorging on Chinese Hotpot in Lisbon. Today, she is recovering from a major surgery, so please send your vibes to her. I am sure the Food Angels will make sure she receives them!
10 Replies to “Sharing The Tastes Of Home”
A beautiful, sweet and loving tribute to food and family. I also could visualize and smell the food and eavesdrop on the table conversations. Brought back family memories of my own.
Ah, Karen. Do share with us your family memories of food? Please please?
Chock full of imagery, that one. In this era of technologies like VR, I sometimes think, you don’t need a fancy headset to get a full fledged sensory experience. All it takes is a well-written article or a book. Your article proves my point!
Reading this brought back some of the fondest memories of my childhood that are associated with food–thank you for that. I also love how you bring out the significant difference between food cooked by someone you love versus just good food. The latter is perhaps easy to find, but the former is something rare, something to cherish. Food is indeed home!
Thank you, Restless, for reading. I am a foodie, haha, I think that’s why that story has so much imagery! ;-). What were your fondest memories of food? I would love to know. A post?
Here’s the post!:)https://virtualramblings10.blogspot.com/2020/07/nostalgically-yours-ambrosia-of.html
So beautiful, Restless! Thank you for writing. I am a zero on social media otherwise I would have shared it somewhere!
This is very touching and beautiful ❤️
That’s the shortest comment ever from you! Haha. Thank you, Dog Mamma, for reading. Thank you. Much love to you and my Zen Boy.
Jumping for joy because Hippocampus saw the beauty in that article. It’s so unbelievably evocative. I could taste and smell all the food, and feel the memories around it. Your words are magical.
Awwwwww the dedication to Poodle in the end. In no time, she will be eating another hotpot!
Thank you, Birdy for loving this the first time I shared it with you. Do you think this would have made it Round 2 if you hadn’t liked it?