Mountain

It is the day after Christmas and it was a lovely day. The plan worked. Two weeks ago I invited a friend to come and have lunch with me. She had been helping me with a critical situation at home with one of my cats who had been very ill. Without my friend’s help that week I would have been lost and desperate. I was deeply grateful. Although at that time Christmas was a couple of weeks away, I knew she didn’t have a way to celebrate it, that, for her, it was a time of sadness and memories. And I didn’t have plans either. So let’s have lunch, I said.

I spent the morning baking. I am not a baker or a cook. It is rare that I make something and like it. Usually, I am disappointed in my efforts. I often cook or bake with worry instead of peace. But yesterday morning, despite the finickiness of the recipe, its many tight turns, I felt light. I enjoyed skinning half a pound of almonds and separating eggs, and even got my egg whites to pretty much get to soft peaks.

I did run late though. Only half an hour, but was able to whirl through the house at the last minute, giving the bathroom a quick facelift, changing my clothes, whipping off the protective sheets from the living room furniture, and even washing the dishes and making the bed. The cat litter had to wait, but otherwise we were reasonably presentable.

My friend brought the most lovely plate of food. Not only delicious but artfully placed on a large red plate.

I got the fire going, and we ate and talked easily. That’s what I love about her. We talk so easily. We can fill hours.

And my cake turned out. It looked lovely, and it tasted good. The raspberries I added were still a little too frozen, but I knew better than to mention it. When you make the food you immediately identify its shortcomings. Other people immediately identify their pleasure in eating something someone else has prepared.

So although I didn’t have a single Christmas decoration up, it felt special. She could have stayed longer, we could have lingered over the fire, but she had to get back to call her mother abroad who waits for her daily call at an appointed hour.

So it felt special but not hyper inflated. Simple and nice.