I was sitting on a kitchen stool, devouring a fat, drippy plum.
“Wouldn’t this be a nice way to start a blog?” I thought and wished for inspiration to descend upon me. Something that would touch a spiritual or emotional vein.
“I was sitting on a kitchen stool, devouring a fat, drippy plum when it suddenly occurred to me that…”
Instead, during a particularly juicy bite, I dropped the plum and it rolled across the neglected kitchen floor, gathering bits of lunch leftovers as it went.
I picked it up, washed it off, and kept eating… and waiting for inspiration.
But my mind strayed to menu ideas for cold main dishes and luscious salads.
And then I thought of how my last evening in Illinois was damp with just a smidgen of chill. We sat on the front porch and blew bubbles to delight my nephews. And how I didn’t want that night to end. Ever.
How pleased I was that my brother had married, but how melancholy I was at another evidence that life keeps changing. And we have to keep adjusting.
How hard it had been to leave Illinois, but how I had been ready to get back to Spain and what has become normal life for me.
How, more than once, I had accidentally referred to Spain as “home” which got confusing when I referred to Illinois as “home” in the same sentence.
How I had asked God to let the seat beside me be empty on my 8 hour flight over the Atlantic. I wanted to sleep. Instead, He placed a Palestinian man beside me. And we talked.
How after I had unpacked, I discovered an empty shelf in my tiny room. What a delight!
How timid I was to go out and buy groceries because my Spanish felt rusty and I knew that shopkeepers would ask about my trip. And how they did, but how I survived.
How 3 weeks was not enough time to catch up with family and friends and how the days had gone so hard and fast that they now seemed a lifetime ago as I sat on the kitchen stool and devoured my fat, drippy plum.
That’s what I thought about. Nothing profound or inspiring. Just life right now.