Life at the cottage has changed dramatically
Jamie and his guitar
I have always believed thatmuch as it nourishes our bodies, good food nourishes our souls, especially ifeaten with congenial company. And I have consciously been a nurturer all myadult life. When pandemic hit, I welcomed Jordan, Christian, and Jacob to thecottage for supper almost every night. We had a few friends who we knew werequarantining as consciously as we were, and they came for happy hour on thepatio, our logic being that open-air visits were safer. As a family, we atewell but not lavishly—no lobster and few steaks, but meatloaf and burgers thatChristian grilled and casseroles I made and sometimes invented. Jordan and Imade weekly menu plans and grocery lists, and one of my greatest joys was toscan the internet and a few magazines, principally Southern Living, fornew ideas. By this Spring, of course, all that had changed. The Burtons hadsocial and business obligations, Jacob was off being a high school senior, andI occasionally went to dinner with friends but was more likely to have friendsto the cottage for a light supper.
Almost three weeks ago, allthat changed again, all at once. I was told I should stick to soft food(anything I can cut with the edge of a fork—yogurt, applesauce, oatmeal,potatoes, etc.); I was told I can never have another glass of wine (If I wishto survive); I pretty much lost interest in food (nausea seemed to linger closeto the surface). To my surprise I still enjoyed finding new recipes and alreadyhave a bulging fold labeled “Recipes to try.” Someday, someday.
Meanwhile the Burtons prettymuch stopped showing up. I’m not sure what or how they and Jaie are eating, butI don’t hear dinner plans,etc. Jordan comes many times a day to ask, “How’s itging?” or to discuss medical appointments, of which I have many. Christianrarely comes, and I think Jacob has been out here twice (we did have thatlovely dinner at Pacific Table). Jamies is here now, for moral support andcompany to doctors’ visits, but he has the most irregular eating habits I’veever seen—he brought a jar of peanut butter and cans of ravioli with him—andhis working hours are just as irregular. He works remotely but hasn’t found theperfect place yet—yesterday and today he’s at one of those rent an office bythe day places at Clearfork, and he came in at 1:30 this morning.
But the result of all this isthat I am alone, with Benji (and today Jamie’s dog) much more than I am usedto—at a time when it is perhaps not the best thing for introspective me to bealone. But what this new schedule tells me most of all is that I was right—we gatherat the table for more than physical nourishment. Eating together feeds our soulsas well as our bodies. I will be glad toget past this physical problem of mine and start cooking again. I will say thatmusic also feeds our souls—last night, about eight o’clock, Jamie brought outhis guitar. With memories of another pleasant evening when his guitar hadhealing properties, I crawled into my bed, and he played softly for me forabout an hour. I was probably more relaxed than I have been in weeks.
Another Jamie adventure today:on our way home from today’s doctor’s appointment, we passed a car apparentlystranded on the side of a high overpass. As we drove by Jame said, “Looks likean old lady.” Next thing I knew we were in the totally wrong lane for goinghome, and almost peevishly I asked, “Where are you going?” “Back to check onthat old lady,” he said. And so we made the whole circle around the highway exchangeand pulled up behind the stranded car. This scared me some, because you alwayshear about good Samaritans being hit by passing cars, but Jamie was careful.From the passenger seat, I watched him laughing and smiling. When he came back,he said, “She’s got a tow truck on the way. I told her I’d be glad to changethe tire”—I looked at his white jeans—“but she said it was all taken care of.” Doyou wonder that I’m proud of the kids I raised?
