Day 30 - a dream for the future
The wind chimes blow gently. The fall air makes our house feel special on an ordinary weekend. "Git out from underfoot," I scold the dog as the big pot of paella stews on the stovetop. My children are home for the weekend. I hit the back of my son's hand as he picks scallops out of the pot. "You ruin it by opening the pot. You know that." They both laugh at me and pretend to be afraid of me.
Sam pours me a glass of wine as they chop veggies for me. I cook and add spices and little details that remind them of home. They tell me stories--wild, insane stories of university and their friends. The laughter with the aroma of sofrito fills our kitchen. Sam keeps coming behind me to smooch the back of my neck and put his arms around me. He buries his face in my hair. I know what he is thinking. Our children are happy. We have done good.
I will stop, as they tease each other, close my eyes and say a prayer of thanks for my amazing fortune. A candle will flicker our sideboard, next to a pillar or small stones and a small black jizo. It is still a prayer of thanks when I notice the candle. Still a prayer of infinite gratitude.