Dalai Mama Dishes

by Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Dalai Mama Dishes

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

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Gratitude

Posted March 21, 2011
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I read Birdy the last chapter of Little House in the Big Woods last night. It's only been a couple of years since I read it to Ben, of course, but I had nonetheless forgotten how incredibly good it is. How Zen, honestly. It ends this way, after Pa plays Auld Lang Syne on his fiddle and Laura climbs into bed:

"Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.
She thought to herself, "This is now."
She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago."

Sigh.

If you know me at all, then you won't be surprised to hear that I am feeling wistful. Again. Our basement is flooded. Anni and Frankie and Mr. Paws moved out on Saturday, headed for new adventures. The kids were home from school with back-to-back fevers for two weeks. I lost a job. This job, actually.

But I am filled, above all, with gratitude for now, for this life, for the kids whom I secretly love to keep home when they're sick, for the kids who always get better, knock wood, thank God. For the space that we had to offer Anni and then Frankie too. For that baby who birthed his smiling way into our lives and surprised us with his steady, loving gaze, his laughter floating up into the air like bubbles. For the space that they've left behind. For our sheltering home, even if it's not perfect or even especially watertight. For having had this work that I love, writing this column for so long, and growing up, again, while you were with me. I've changed so much, and I know my stories and recipes reflect that, and I've been so grateful for your patience and encouragement and company along the way.

Like you, I've been looking and looking at the photographs from Japan. I don't know what to think. I don't pray, as you know, but I force myself to imagine what it might be like to be there, or to have been there, and this to me is like a kind of prayer, a kind of bearing witness. Luck is relative. So many lucky people there still have each other, even though they've lost everything else. And I have everything that matters most to me.

Which is a funny way of ending this column, I know. "Aren't you going to post a recipe?" Ben asked, looking over my shoulder as I downloaded this one moody photograph of Birdy with her empty bowl in the early spring candlelight. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe a recipe for gratitude," I said, and he rolled his eyes. "But it just feels weird," I explained, "like, goodbye, oh, and tortilla soup!" And he said, "I see what you mean." I'm not actually ready to stop writing this column, so I hope you will come and find me over at my blog, where I will continue posting recipes if that seems like something you'd continue to be interested in. Maybe you'll let me know?

Now is now. Full bellies, full hearts, and all my deepest thanks for accompanying us this far on our journey. With love and luck from us to you. xo Catherine

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Gratitude

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About Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman is the author of the memoir, Waiting for Birdy: A Year of Frantic Tedium, Neurotic Angst, and the Wild Magic of Growing a Family, available online and in bookstores nationwide.

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