What is there about time that is so fluid and collapsible? My mother died when I was 16. I am now 75. In the intervening 59 years, I have married, had a wonderful step-mother, had two children who grew to be amazing women, had grandchildren, lived through the death of my first husband and have had 17 years so far with a second. The blended family makes me the grandmother of 13 delightful young people from ages 27 to 2. Life has been broad and incredibly fulfilling. And yet - and yet - once in a while, like today at lunch preparing avocado and grapefruit salad, my mom is with me as if I had been in her kitchen yesterday.
I was very aware I cut the ingredients differently than she did. I use a different dressing because I never have found a French dressing that matches her homemade and I don’t have the recipe. I was overwhelmed by her presence. Like it was yesterday. Although I do not understand it, I am grateful for this accordion of time that allows for such love to be present.