A Week Of

There were many omens this week, all pointing directly to the onset of another season.

It was not a gentle reminder and I became acutely aware that it is now time to pack the white leggings away and hope for another spring.

The mail delivery also brought an application for an absentee ballot for the next election in November.

And I could no longer pretend there was any vestige of summer remaining.

Yesterday while working on the sequel to my cookbook, I remembered a classic delicacy served whenever we visited Joan and Bill Kisch’s household in Nassau Shores.

While munching this afternoon on my version of Joan’s memorable classic grilled ham and cheese sandwich, several isolated things leaped into mind.

First I remembered Sisyphus, the founder and king of Ephyra. The Greek legend was punished for cheating death twice. He was forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll down every time it neared the top. Sisyphus was sentenced to repeat this action for eternity.

I have no recollection of cheating death, but I relate to this mythical figure from Greek mythology daily as I choose to cook my own lunch rather than emerge from my apartment and select an equally delicious grilled cheese sandwich from the amazing dining room where I now live.

I may not be pushing a boulder up a hill, but I seem to be constantly avoiding the gentle blanket of senior living. My current home is rich with opportunity, yet I cling to yesterday choosing to maintain my own kitchen rather than relax in the community dining area.

I persist in maintaining the subtle pretense of independence when in reality it is now a myth. While I have my own apartment with all the amenities, I also have the comfort assurance of assistance if or when needed.

Rather I keep thinking, next season I will choose to enjoy the superb communal dining rather than preparing my own meals. And for the past 48 months, I have made that resolution only to postpone it for another spring or autumn or winter.

I could say it is because I enjoy cooking and that would be quite true.

Yet it is a deeper desire than that.

I am in essence hanging on yet to the yesterdays of my life, when the clamor of the Fabulous Four voices seemed overwhelming and their tall Father and I shook our heads, but secretly smiled at the miracle of our life together.

Perhaps I am reluctant to admit the deeper truth, the abandonment of more than youth or independence is instead the recognition of the inevitable.

Meanwhile I’ll keep working on the new cookbook and sampling a few more recipes .”