Out my window, this morning, a baseball field in winter.
My visits to Chicago follow a familiar pattern -- one that my girl knows I love. I quickly grab a coffee at Steingold's Bagel Shop downstairs (I'm staying at the Zachary Hotel in Wrigleyville Chicago).
And then I Uber over to my daughter's home, where she has a bowl of oatmeal ready and waiting.
This morning she has embarked on an ambitious cooking project -- to make (her first) pierogi, with me casting a critical eye.
I loved my grandmother's pierogi. She made them all -- with cabbage and mushrooms (my favorite), with cheese and potatoes, with blueberries. My mother wasn't a cook so she never made them and I myself wasn't keen on introducing them to my young very American family. I made them maybe once. Enthusiasm was tepid and so I never made them again. (Ditto bigos, ditto stuffed cabbage.) Still, I'd been at my grandmother's side while she rolled them, stuffed them, arranged them neatly on her large wooden board. They're not hard to make, albeit they take time.
And so I keep an eye on the project now, though of course, my daughters are fabulous cooks and need no real help from me. Juniper and Primrose are eager to take part and even my son-in-law dusted off his (partly) Polish roots and helped roll and stuff some.
We didn't cook them this morning. Juniper needs the pierogi for a school "international day" and they'll put a couple to the test this afternoon. But they're looking good! (Stuffed with potatoes, cheese and onion, we call them "Ruskie," though more recently people have taken to labeling them "Ukrainskie.")
We go out to brunch at Middle Brow. Familiar, favorite, beloved.
And my daughter doesn't end things there. She suggests an outing to nearby Daisies -- another favorite! We pick up bakery treats for home and a strong coffee for me, for the drive back.
And there it ends. A beautiful birthday weekend. And I have the same feeling on the ride back that I always have: the car is flooded with my music favorites, and I think back, and I think forward, and I miss this young family so much already! One minute I'm tying ribbons for Juniper and pinching pierogi and the next I'm behind the wheel, on my way to the farmhouse, even as their days will continue and Juniper will nap, and then Primrose will likely do an art project, and dusk will turn into evening, and they'll start thinking about getting ready for the week before them.
I'm sure til the last visit I ever make to Chicago, I will always feel this loss as I pull away, at the same time that I'm not unhappy: I know they have a strong and joyful family life and I have no doubt that it will continue thus.
Besides, I do look forward to getting home to Ed.
There's plenty of sunshine on my drive back and I have this idea that I should stop along the way at our local park for a quick jaunt up and down our favorite trail. I need the movement. The clear head. One last reflection on how good it all was.
And then I pull up to the farmhouse and Ed is at the door greeting me and he shouts out -- hey gorgeous, want to go out for a walk? I have to laugh. I just did that! But we go out again, together. Same trail, same sunshine, same comfortable recounting of events. Same love.
I'll end with that. We dont watch football, so our evening is much like any other: I make a pot of chili. We settle in on the couch, content.
with so much love...
