This week - took a chunk out of me; it was mentally exhausting.... Nothing like the untimely death of a classmate (one week after his birthday; he left behind three little kids) to throw the mind into spirals of thoughts - about my own mortality, my life choices, how to spend my remaining time, if my luck should hold up. No wonder, then, that the brain should defensively crave quiet, ways to slow everything down. As it happens, I had a prescheduled, uber corporate, frou frou, work event: a Zoom guided “origami as a meditative and therapeutic exercise” session - how to slow down with paper folding, and I cherished it.
And the Jardin - throughout this whole awful pandemic, my little terrace that I have always appreciated has been a godsend. It is my connection to nature, my tangible reminder that life can triumph, my refuge for quiet contemplation... For a change, sunRISES from the Jardin, the rare eastern light show in the calm of early morning (usually I am asleep)...
...Gathering the prolific shiso, washing and drying and chiffonading it, mixing the marinade for Korean ban chan-inspired pickling to punch up a “beefless beef tips” meal (shiso and beef are a classic Vietnamese pairing) - slow meal prep and cooking as self care...
...And taking note of the little creatures who stop by - the dragonfly, ...
...the snail, ...
...Nature’s children who get even less time on this earth than do we....
My friend loved his babies and his wife more than anything; it was abundantly clear and came through, even though our interactions were only through social media - you just knew. That they won’t have him anymore is devastating. In this time, condolence messages are also through social media - I tried to put as much care into my messages as I could muster; only right - and so those babies can read it all later, and know, how much their daddy loved them.
He also really enjoyed barbecue. We, our class, had bounced around talk of a reunion event over a BBQ showdown between him and another classmate BBQ aficionado. Now that will never happen. Maybe we’ll just have BBQ and remember him, and our other classmates, gone too soon. Maybe the last of the 690 of us standing will still feel that the others had gone too soon ... May that person have the vigor and joy of life on that faraway date to feel s/he was called too soon, and not too late.
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