My friend Paula made cooking her prayer. One day she walked past a basket of freshly picked zucchinis freshly picked from my garden. They lay on the kitchen counter, six dark green and striped oblongs curving in health and freshness, alluring against the beige, woven web of the round basket. We were getting tea to accompany us while we worked.
Paula stopped. She picked up a zucchini and smelled it.
``Oh my God, these are so beautiful!’’ she said. She reached in and took another.
``I have to cook these, I have to cook these right now,’’ she said, a holy glow suffusing her face and shining through her golden skin.
She put down her folder of work, took the basket and headed for the sink. Laughing, I followed.
``What are you going to make?’’ I asked.
``Stuffed zucchinis.’’ She opened the fridge and bent over to see in. ``Let’s see, you’ve got everything here, fresh tomatoes, garlic over there, Parmigian, bread crumbs – we’re set.’’
I prepared myself to follow her around the kitchen. She cooked with abandon, flinging pans and oils aside when she was done. I was her sous chef, fetching needed knives, pans, salt, washing each one as she used them. I was always happy to have her take charge of my kitchen.
When I went to work full time, she took my grocery money and came once a month to make us 10 dinners, having the girls choose which one was for tonight and which for the freezer. Not until now did I realize I was her altar girl, bustling about to bring the miracle of dinner, preparing to sit, the four of us, Paula, me and my two daughters, at the dinner table, spooning up zucchinis, prayer and love.
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I love what you did with this prompt. Frankly, better than anything I read in that entire book! A lovely character sketch of Paula. A lovely moment in time.
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