Get to know Kimberly Caristi, the author, traveler, cook and photographer. Kimberly, originally from St. Louis, embraced her move to the countryside at thirteen. It was the start of her looking forward to change. Throughout her life each significant event has contributed to her growth, shaping her into the person she is today. Especially her marriage to a wonderful man and the births of her son and daughter. Having lived in several places in the Midwest and spending enriching months in Slovenia, Italy, and Greece, she still holds St. Louis close to her heart. Raising two independent children was her main career, which she loved. Her side careers were working as an artist, fundraising, and working for non-profit groups while volunteering her time in the community. Her husband said she was a stay-at-home mom who was never home. With a passion for cooking and baking, Kimberly has made a name for herself in each community she has lived in. Kimberly’s favorite comment came from her Italian born mother-in-law when she said Kimberly was more Italian than her. Since 2020 she has channeled her creativity into her writing. If you can't guess Kimberly loves sunsets especially over the sea.

< Back Biga Prep Time: ten minutes Cook Time: Serves: Level: beginner About the Recipe Many of the recipes for the classic regional breads begin with starter dough made from small amounts of flour, water and yeast allowed to initial fermentation and then used to infuse the actual bread dough. The starter, known as biga in Italy, not only gives strength and force to what in Italy are weak flours but also produces a secondary fermentation from which comes the wonderful aroma, natural flavor and special porosity of the final loaves and wheels of bread. I keep some biga on hand at all times—the contents of our refrigerator and freezer are definitely not the typical American vision with more inedible than edible contents. Still, by having it on hand, I can decide to make pane pugliese or ciabatta in the morning and have it for dinner that night. In Italy, bakers save saltless dough from the previous day’s bake to start a new dough. Because the first biga must come from somewhere, you may make it following the instructions below. This biga is remarkable. It freezes very well and needs only about three hours at room temperature until it is bubbly and active again. It can be refrigerated for about a week; after that it gets a bit strong. When using it in recipes, it is best to weigh it rather than measure it for it expands at room temperature. The bakers I admire most advise ten to eleven hours for the first rise and then another three hours after adding more flour and water, but others are very happy with the twenty-four hours it takes for dough to become truly yesterday’s dough. If you like sour bread, allow your biga to rest for twenty-four to seventy-two hours. The important point about a starter dough is that it is very close to natural yeast and the bread made with it develop a wonderful taste because their risings are long and bring out the flavor of the grain. Another benefit is that the loaves remain fresher and taste sweeter than those made with large amounts of commercial yeast. Ingredients Makes 2 1/3 cups (about 585 grams) ¼ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/10 small cake (2 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water ¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon water, room temperature 2 ½ cups (about 330) unbleached all-purpose flour Makes 3 ½ cups (about 750 grams) ½ teaspoon active dry yeast or 1/5 cakes (3 to 5 grams) fresh yeast ¼ cup warm water 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons water, room temperature 3 ¾ cups (500 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour Preparation Stir the yeast into the warm water and let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Stir in the remaining water and then the flour, 1 cup at a time. By hand Mix with a wooden spoon for 3 to 4 minutes. By mixer Mix with the paddle at the lowest speed for 2 minutes. By processor Mix just until a sticky dough is formed Rising Remove to a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise at a cool room temperature for 5 to 24 hours. The starter will triple in volume and still be wet and sticky when ready. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use. When needed, scoop out desired amount. Both recipes can easily be cut in half. Previous Next

< Back Grandma's Cinnamon Rolls Prep Time: 30 minutes plus rise time Cook Time: 30 Serves: 24 if your make them as directed Level: easy About the Recipe Ingredients 5 1/2 to 6 cups all-purpose flour 2 pkg Active dry yeast or quick-rise 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup milk 1 cup water 1/4 cup butter 2 eggs 1/3 cup butter, melted filling: 3/4 cup sugar 1/2 cup chopped nuts 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon glaze: 2 cups powdered sugar 3 tbs butter, melted 1/2 teaspoon maple flavor 3 to 4 tbs. hot coffee or maple syrup then I opt the maple flavoring Preparation 1 Preheat oven 375 2 In large mixer bowl, combine 2 cups flour, yeast, 1/2 cup sugar and salt; mix well. In saucepan, heat milk, water and butter until very warm (120-130 butter doesn’t need to melt). Add to flour mixture. Add eggs. Blend at low speed until moistened; beat 3 minutes at medium speed. By hand, gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough. Knead on floured surface until smooth and elastic, 5 to 8 minutes. Place in greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover; let rise in warm place until light and doubled, about 1 hour (30 minutes for quick-rise yeast) 3 Prepare filling: Combine sugar, nuts and cinnamon; set aside. Punch down dough. Divide into 2 parts. On lightly floured surface, roll or pat each half to a 12x9 inch rectangle. Brush each part with half of melted butter; sprinkle half of filling over dough. Starting with shorter side, roll up tightly. Pinch edge to seal. Cut into 12 slices. Place in greased 13x90inch cake pans. Cover; let rise in warm place until almost doubled, about 30 minutes (15 minutes for quick-rise yeast). Bake at 375 for 20 to 25 minutes until golden brown Drizzle glaze over hot rolls; cool. 4 Prepare Glaze: Combine glaze ingredients; blend until smooth. Previous Next

< Back Pane di Como Prep Time: 10 minutes Cook Time: 35 to 40 minutes Serves: 2 loaves Level: medium About the Recipe Ingredients ¾ cup (180 grams) Biga 1 1 ½ cups water, room temperature ½ cup (65 grams) whole-wheat flour 3 to 3 ¼ cups (435 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons (10 grams) salt Preparation By Hand Cut the starter into small pieces in a large mixing bowl. Add all but 1 to 2 tablespoons of the water and mix until the starter is in fine shreds and the liquid is chalky white. Stir in the whole-wheat flour and most of the all-0ppurpose flour, 1 cup at a time. When the dough is a fairly rough and shaggy mass, stir in the salt dissolved in the remaining water. Knead on a floured surface, sprinkling with up to ½ cup additional flour and using the dough scraper to scrape up the fine film of dough that will accumulate on the work surface, as well as to turn and lift the dough. After about 5 minutes of kneading, slam the dough down hard several times to help develop the gluten. Continue kneading until the dough is smooth, a total of 8 to 12 minutes. The dough should still be soft, moist, and sticky. By Mixer Mix the starter and all but 1 to 2 tablespoons of the water with the paddle in a large mixer bowl. Mix in the flours and then the salt dissolved in the remaining water. Change to the dough hook and knead at medium speed until soft, moist, and sticky but obviously elastic, and 4 minutes. Finish kneading by hand on a floured surface, sprinkling with additional flour, until smooth but still soft. By Processor Refrigerate the starter until cold. Process the starter and 1 ½ cups of cold water with the steel blade and remove to another bowl. Change to the dough blade and process the flours and salt with 2 or 3 pulses to sift. With the machine running, pour the starter mixture through the feed tube as quickly as the flour can absorb it. Process 30 to 45 seconds longer to knead. The dough will be moist and sticky. Finish kneading by hand on a floured surface, sprinkling with additional flour, until the dough is smooth but still soft. First Rise. Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled, 1 ½ to 2 hours. The dough is ready when it has numerous bubbles and blisters under the skin. Shaping and Second Rise. Divide the dough in half on a floured surface without kneading it. Shape into 2 round loaves. Let them relax under a cloth for 20 minutes. Line baking sheets or peels with parchment paper and flour the paper generously. Roll each ball into a fat cylinder and place seam side down on the paper. Dimple the loaves all over with your fingertips or knuckles, as for focaccia, to keep the dough from springing up. The dough should feel delicate but extremely springy. Cover the loaves and let rise until doubled, with many visible air bubbles, 1 ¼ to 1 ½ hours (or put is a cool place or refrigerate overnight.) Baking . If I put it in the refrigerator I take it out and let it come to room temperture and let it rise some more around thirty minutes to an hour. I take my cloth off as soon as I take it out of the fridge and wet it again with warm water then cover the loaves again. Thirty minutes before baking, heat the oven with a baking stone in it to 425 F. Sprinkle the baking stone with cornmeal... Carry the peel or baking sheet to the oven and very gently invert the dough onto the stone, gently remove the parchment paper. Immediately reduce the heat to 400 F and bake until golden, 35 to 40 minutes. (I baked them on the baking sheet) Cool on racks. Variation sometimes I add a teaspoon of Malt Barley to this recipe. It adds a nice flavor. I buy it on Amazon because no one carries it around here. It is used in beer making. Previous Next

The Diner tells the story about a young hard working woman who usually thinks with her head instead of her heart until she meets Dante when she travels to Sicily. Written by Kimberly Caristi Life is hard and worst of all lonely for Sandra. You wouldn't know it because she doesn't let the struggles she has define her. She has a smart and level head on her shoulders. When Dante comes along he tries to make her think with her heart instead of her head. Sitting on a plane with an almost one-year-old on her lap made Sandra nervous. How was she going to manage a day of traveling with Carinu? She thought she had enough food and toys to keep him busy when he wasn’t sleeping. Who knew what would keep a busy one year old occupied on his first trip out of their small town? They rarely got in a car so she wondered if he would sleep in his new car seat. The woman seated on the other side of his car seat seemed to be tickled pink entertaining him. Carinu was used to strangers so he was flirting with her and enjoying the attention he was receiving. Sandra’s life was made of one change after another. She was getting tired of having to readjust her life. Why couldn’t she have a "normal” life? Poor Carinu has had such a sad beginning and to be saddled with a name like Carinu in a small midwestern town, his life was going to be a challenge. Children are mean, Sandra knew that through her own experience. Having a name that children could make fun of was a noose around your neck. Sandra vowed Carinu wouldn’t have her life. She would make sure of that. A New Experience She thought she was crazy taking on this challenge, but she had made a promise and she had put it off long enough. She assumed the money was coming from his father but there was only a bank’s name on the checks. She needed whoever it was to stop sending it. Carinu and her were doing well enough on their own. The woman sitting next to Carinu said, “Excuse me but we are about to take off. Do you have something for your baby to suck on?” Flustered, I said, “Oh, Mrs. Miller told me to make sure he had his pacifier. Thank you for reminding me. I have never flown before and my head is elsewhere.” Sandra dug in his baby bag and pulled out the pacifier. Carinu grabbed it with his chubby little hand quickly and stuck it in his mouth. She had been trying to wean him of his fi, as he called it. Sandra was worried about his teeth. They were a challenge breaking through his gums so she didn’t want to cause anything to go wrong with his teeth now that he had eight little white buds sticking out of his pink gums. They were adorable. Mrs. Miller told me not to take the pacifier totally away until after our trip to Italy. He hadn’t made a fuss being put into his car seat. That action made Sandra have one less thing to worry about. Everything was new to Carinu so he was being entertained just looking around. I was really a nervous wreck. Leshay introduced herself. It was easy talking to her. She was very motherly and pulled out my whole life story on our flight to New York. Lenape, Indiana “Hi, I am Sandra Penny.” That was the only thing I wished I could change out of my young life. Kids were mean when they teased me about my last name. I didn’t have much, so with a last name like Penny they would either joke that I didn’t have two pennies to rub together, or they would find a penny and give it to me telling me now I had a penny to my name. I have no idea what my dad’s name was and I didn’t care unless he had a really cool name. My mom had followed him here with the promise of marriage as soon as he made it big. As soon as he found out my mom was pregnant with me, he left for some cigarettes and never returned. I thought if he didn’t care about us enough to stick around, he wasn’t worth my time to wonder about him. My mom quickly found a job at an insurance company as a secretary when she had moved to Lenape. When she realized that my dad wasn’t coming back she told herself she would raise me on her own. Anytime I would ask about my family my mom would say we were family enough and didn’t need anyone. Once when I was ten, she did admit that this small town of Lenape, Indiana was not enough for my father. The town was not the prettiest place in Indiana, but it was all I ever needed. My mom made sure I felt loved and not alone. On payday we would go to Sanders’ diner three blocks away from our house for a treat. The minute you walked into the diner, the first thing you smelled was cinnamon and vanilla…the smell of cinnamon rolls which had to be their big seller. Nothing smells better in my opinion. If nothing came up that cost money during the month, we would have a real meal there. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were so sweet to us. On those occasions when we had dinner, they would give us a free dessert. Mr. Sanders often joked that he needed help and looked forward to the day when I would be able to work for them. I always asked, “Would Mrs. Sanders show me how to make those cinnamon rolls then?” One day Mrs. Sanders said, “You know when you are big enough to come here on your own, I will teach you how to make the cinnamon rolls.” I jumped up and with my hands in the praying position, I said, “Do you pinky promise?” My mom and I would always make pinky promises. My mother usually kept those promises. I knew sometimes I had asked too much and before my mom had to break the promise, I would say I didn’t want it anymore. I wasn’t always that good about realizing what our situation was. As time passed, I noticed how worried my mom was when she paid our bills. I didn’t want to add to her burden, so I stopped asking for things that cost money. Truth be told, we were pretty good at having fun without spending money. We started the tradition of going to the library on weekends after Mr. and Mrs. Sanders would ask me what I was reading when we visited. When we got home, we would curl up on the couch together and read our book. When we went back to Sanders, I would tell them all about the book I had picked out at the library. They would ask me questions that made me think. Mom and I were falling in love with the Sanders more each time we saw them. How could we not? They were the nicest people and made mom and me feel like we mattered. Sad to say no one else made us feel that way. My mom’s boss was the worst. Mr. Malcom treated my mom with so much disdain. When I would have to go there if we had a day off from school, he treated me like I was the stupidest child he knew. I was scared of him. He was bald with these big bushy eyebrows that almost connected. The way that he looked at me made me so nervous he would make me stutter when he asked me a question. When he came to our house my mom would tell me to go to my room and lock the door. That didn’t help my being scared of him. Sometimes he would hit my mom while he was there. It was hard for me not to come out and yell at him but my mom made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t come out. When I got older, I asked my mom why she didn’t work somewhere else. Her reply was always the same. “Nobody would want to hire me. I don’t have an education.” That conversation would lead us into talking about me going to college and getting an education so I didn’t have to work with a Mr. Malcom type. Truthfully before I was old enough to legally work Mr. Sanders hired me to bus tables and do light cleaning. It was the highlight of my day. I loved school but going to Sanders I loved the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Sanders. The clientele of the diner were so nice too. They were mainly college people, administrators, professors and students and such a variety of colors and races. I cherished the days that I got to be at the diner. Everyone was welcomed and everyone got along. I couldn’t wait until I got to go to the university so I could belong to something besides my small world; a little home, a couple of friends, and a mom who loved me dearly. My mom loved to give me hugs when I came home from work. “I love you smelling like cinnamon and vanilla. It’s so much better than smelling like copier ink and paper.” She would pull me in and take a deep breath. She hugged me all the time but on workdays she would hold onto me longer. I loved it. I wanted more for my mom than just work and the little life she led. She didn’t get to go to Sanders and listen to people talking about everything in the world. I overheard people talking about where they lived in the world or where they traveled for business. I kept a pad of paper in my pocket and would write down the places I heard about, then I would go to the library to learn all about them. I found it so interesting when I heard about politics and not in the way you do on television. Real debates that were interesting and there were no fights. Once I heard a couple of people talking about the sculptures at the art gallery on campus. I made sure that would be our next trip with my mom. I just had to see what they were talking about. My mom loved walking through the art museum. We would talk about how we would feel if we were walking in a particular painting. It became our favorite game to play and when I started adding money to our income we could visit more often. The museum was free. I had added enough money to our household that my mom didn’t have to bring work home and Mr. Malcom didn’t visit us as often. I started helping manage the house so my mom and I would have more free time when I was in middle school. I would get books at the library to help me know how to clean, cook and organize our little life. We shopped at thrift stores to find bargains galore. My mom made friends with one of the workers at our favorite place to shop and she would call my mom when a particular woman would drop off her business clothes so my mom could get something beautiful to wear. Mom worked very hard to keep them looking lovely. Even though they were dry clean only, mom washed them very carefully and pressed them on her own. Once we even got a new couch for my mom to sleep on. We couldn’t figure out why someone would throw away such a beautiful couch. I knew my mom was sleeping better when she didn’t make such awful sounds when she got up in the morning. When I was old enough to work as a waitress I was in heaven. When I got my first paycheck, I took the bus to the store to buy paint. Our house was in need of painting in the worst way. I learned how to prep the walls, apply the paint and how to clean up or better yet make sure I didn’t make a mess while painting. My mom made sure that I learned about that first. I started with painting the family room. I thought my mom deserved to have her room painted first. She needed to feel better about our place. Mom would make comments all the time about how she wished that our house were nicer. I always commented that we didn’t need anything more than what we had. We had already pulled the carpet out of the house a couple years ago when my mom came home from work all mad. The stain in the middle of the carpet that had been there all the time I could remember pissed her off. She pulled back the corner of the carpet and saw we had hardwood underneath it. She had me pull all the furniture into the kitchen while she got busy pulling out the carpet. When we finished the family room we started in my bedroom. Boy was it dusty in there. Mom made us wear scarves while we did it. I was glad it wasn’t in the middle of summer or the yarn from our winter scarves would have been unbearable. We washed down the walls and the floor when we were done. It looked like we had a whole new place. Yes, the floors needed more work but it made the place look bigger somehow. The next paycheck mom bought stuff to rejuvenate the floors to their former glory. That was how I got the idea that when I had enough money to buy paint I would. I got pretty handy taking care of the house. It impressed my mom. I was getting so good my mom thought we were more like partners instead of mom and daughter. I was preparing myself to take over everything and I didn’t know it. I knew my mom was moving slower my senior year of high school. She wasn’t that old but I could tell something was wrong. A couple of times I took her to work because she thought I should have the clunker that we called our “car.” We had pooled our money for the last couple of years to buy a used car. My mom thought I should learn to drive and you need your own car to do that. Usually, my mom would walk to work but that year she asked if I minded if she drove. My mom’s last day of work I went to pick her up and I had to help her out to the car. I hated that Mr. Malcom made fun of her, “If your worthless mother doesn’t shape up, I am going to have to fire her.” I couldn’t say anything. My mom just mumbled she was sorry. I wanted my mom to go to the doctor and she said they couldn’t help her. While I made her a bowl of chicken soup, we argued about it. She pinky swore that if she didn’t feel better in the morning, she would go see a doctor. When I got up in the morning she was gone. I tried desperately to wake her. It took a minute of shaking her before I gave up and laid my head on her stomach and cried. Finally, I ran down to Sanders, instantly they knew something was wrong. Mrs. Sanders came back with me while Mr. Sanders called 911. It was a sad goodbye. Everyone at Sanders pitched in for the burial. The day of the funeral Mr. and Mrs. Sanders stayed for dinner. There was a knock at the front door and Mr. Sanders brought in Mr. Malcom, he came by to deliver a check. As one of my mom’s perks for working for him he gave her a small life insurance policy. He was a sleaze ball but he was nice enough to give me the policy money. He tried to tell me I should take my mom’s place at his office and Mr. Sanders happily pushed him out the door telling him I was in mourning and thanked him for the check. Mr. Sanders yelled at Mr. Malcolm as he was walking down the stairs to the sidewalk. “Sandra will never work for you as long as I am alive to prevent it!” Mrs. Sanders just laughed. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders were commenting about how cute the inside of my house was. Mom and I never had anyone over. If you walked by the house, you would think it would be a mess on the inside. We just didn’t have the energy to take care of it. We tried our best but it still looked rundown. It was our next project to tackle, we would say. “Okay Sandra what is your next step?” “What do you mean?” I had no idea what Mr. Sanders was talking about. “Can you stay in this house?” “Yes.” “Can you afford the payments? Do you have a landlord?” “Oh, we almost have it paid off. The only thing my mom said that my dad did right beside me.” Just saying those words made me smile for the first time since I found my mom. My mom would give me a hug when we talked about how little we had left to pay off the house. “He had put a large chunk of money down on the house when he moved here. My mom just took over the payments. My mom talked to the bank about it and they took off my dad’s name. We have two payments left and it will be all mine.” I started fiddling with the napkin in my lap. “My mom must have known she was sick because about a year ago she changed the title of the house to my name. She said she didn’t want me to have to worry about having a place to live.” A tear started rolling down my face. “She made me pinky swear that she could live here as long as she wanted when I started asking her about why I have to worry since the house would be hers. She made a joke about it.” I stood up. “Thank you for all that you have done and for all the food you brought me. I don’t know how I will eat it all but knowing me I will give it a good try.” I gave a weak smile, wiped away a tear that had dared to escape from the corner of my eye then I excused myself. When I came out of my room Mrs. Sanders was still in the kitchen organizing the leftovers into storage bags and containers. She must have gone down and got them at the diner. We sat and talked about where I was going from here. Mrs. Sanders made me promise that I would go to the school counselor for help with planning my college career. It was hard to go back to school after my mother died. Everyone knew, somehow. My teachers were all very nice and lenient. I only missed a week. Instead of getting a job I went back to school because Mrs. Sanders reminded me that my mom always talked about me going to college. Yes, I would fulfill my mother’s dream of me graduating from college. Visiting the counselor the day I went back to school was another something I shouldn’t have had to go through. Talk about someone who shouldn’t have this job. She made assumption by the way I was dressed. In her opinion, someone poor shouldn’t be in honors classes or have straight ‘A’s’. The question about who was in charge of me got under my skin and my reply made her stop and call a social worker. I left the counselor’s office with a pamphlet worth of papers for applications for scholarships, financial aid, and an appointment card with sheets I needed to fill out for the social worker. I informed her that there was no better place to go to college than the one in our town, my father was out of the picture or wouldn’t I have moved in with him when my mom died and as I closed the door said she shouldn’t judge people by how they look. I was still filling out all the paperwork my counselor gave me when the social worker arrived to interrogate me. Interrogate might be a strong word for what transpired while she was there, nonetheless that was what it felt like. She was surprised that the inside of my house looked way better than the outside. What can I say? I hate yard work! I liked polishing the woodwork because it brought things back to life. Mowing and trimming did not. I would like to paint the house but we didn’t have a ladder to get to the high places. Seriously, all the scraping to get off the peeling paint seemed too daunting. I have learned from her death that putting things off was not always the best plan of tackling unpleasant tasks, though I still did it. After the social worker looked around the house we sat and talked about my future. Not the distant future but the next few months until I graduate from high school. I was glad I was already eighteen because that kept me from going into foster care. I showed her the few bills I had, our bank account information. She told me that I would get a puny lump sum from the IRS then start to get social security money but she wasn’t sure it would be enough to live on. I saw the concern on her face. It was a little unsettling, nevertheless I thought I had this. When I worked, I got a meal. I got free lunches at school though I knew that would end soon. The more I thought about it I was sure I was going to have no problems. The life insurance policy would pay for the property taxes and any surprise expenses for at least fifteen years. Looking at the paperwork from the school counselor, I was going to have to work harder on getting scholarships. I had to write five scholarship essays. I was glad I could write about myself but one wanted me to write about if all the people in the world were blue and I was green what would I do. I still used the essay about myself. Working at the diner would keep me afloat and I always got good tips. The Sanders’ other two waitresses, Judy and Gail, had been at the diner since the beginning. Judy kept saying she should retire and move where her grandkids were living. Her husband passed away about ten years ago. Gail was still married to the same man for almost forty years. They talk about retiring in Florida someday. I hope they made it to retirement because they looked old. I would hear all about her resting bitch face when I would take her shift. People at the dinner didn’t complain much except about Gail. She wasn’t a bad waitress - it was just that she had nothing nice to say to anyone. Every time I got a scholarship, I would run down to the diner to tell Mr. and Mrs. Sanders. We would add things up on the chalkboard in the kitchen. When my counselor told me how much aid I would be getting because I was low income, Mrs. Sanders put that amount on the board. At the top was the cost to go to the university and we just kept subtracting. The day I got enough money we celebrated with pie a’ la mode. Mrs. Sanders and I made faces when Mr. Sanders wanted his apple pie with mint chocolate chip ice cream instead of vanilla. Graduation day came and I didn’t have anyone there to cheer me on. I tried not to cry as I sat down after receiving my diploma. Rose was sitting next to me and she handed me a tissue, “Here, I thought I might cry too. I think I surprised my family that I actually graduated.” I took the tissue gratefully as the tears couldn’t be stopped. “Thanks,” squeaked out of me. “What are you going to do now? I haven’t decided. I want to go somewhere other than this stupid town. I might just go to Indianapolis and work in a nice shop so I can get a discount on clothing.” A teacher I didn’t know came over to tell Rose to be quiet. I was glad not to have to answer her. As it was, my classmates weren’t friendly with me and I was afraid to tell Rose I loved our town. I had plans to live out my life here and be buried next to my mom. I never dated. The curse of being teased during my elementary years continued all the way through high school. The only time a guy was nice to me was when I volunteered to answer a question he had on a paper we were assigned. Sometimes I thought a new guy would ask me out but I was too self-conscious to talk to them. My mom told me to stop worrying about what people thought about me but I had to say it was easier said than done. Judy told me that I should reinvent myself when I started college and put myself out there. I needed to date she would say over and over…again, easier said than done. Creative writing? I decided to study creative writing in college. I loved all the books I read and I wanted to transport a child to another world by books like I had been. The problem was I was not a very good writer. I couldn’t come up with ideas unless someone told me what to write about, and it was hard for me to make it to the required number of words or pages. I could talk to strangers but writing about a stranger was difficult. The one thing I learned after halfway through my second year was, I was a very good editor and all the students that sat around me would ask me to check their grammar, tell where they needed to expand on a story or what to cut out. One student told me I should work on the student newspaper. I still wasn’t dating but a couple times at the diner a guy would flirt with me. Judy said I needed to learn to flirt back. I was nice enough I just needed to toss my hair and compliment the guy. Oh, I was bad at it. I could talk about books I had read but having a meaningful conversation was embarrassing. The first time I tried to flirt I ran back to the kitchen and wouldn’t come out until he left. I tried to flirt into the mirror at home and after five minutes of trying I gave up. I was as red as a tomato and glad my mom wasn’t alive to see how sad her daughter was at flirting. A middle-aged man came into the diner often and if I had the time I would sit and talk to him about his travels and the books about traveling I had read. I knew it wasn’t the same but I desperately wanted to share what I had read. Once he thought my conversation was so interesting, he took the trip I planned for him. I really didn’t plan it for him, it was something I read about and told him if I could, I would do this and this and this. He was having a hard time trying to decide what trip to take. It was between Slovakia and Slovenia and I had read a couple books on Slovenia. I wanted to go to a couple of the caves they have plus a couple of lakes I wanted to see. Two lakes that didn’t allow motorized boats on and I wanted to see the clear water of Bohinj. It was at the base of the mountain Triglav, the symbol of Slovenia. Glenn came back all excited. “Sandra, thank you for the most interesting trip I have taken. You should be a travel agent.” Mr. Sanders wasn’t happy with that statement. “Sandra is going to finish college.” I put my hand on Mr. Sanders’ arm hoping to calm him down. “Yes, I am going to finish college. You don’t have to worry. I just think Glenn is happy that I gave him a great idea. Right Glenn?” I looked at him, willing him to agree with me. Glenn didn’t want to upset Mr. Sanders any more than I did. “Yes, Sandra is right. Her knowledge of Slovenia was so dead on, even what food to eat. I guess I should have said that Sandra should share with us travelers all her insights to different cultures. Speaking of which, I brought you back a beehive board.” Glenn handed me a gift-wrapped little package. It was so pretty I didn’t want to destroy the lovely wrapping. “Oh, this is so pretty, do I have to open it?” I said half joking. I really wanted to see the painted board that they put on the beehives but I thought the wrapped package was beautiful. Glenn was a tad upset, “No, you’d better open it. I want to see your expression when you see the painting.” I carefully unwrapped the gift and saw the board and smiled. I had no idea what to say. I wanted to say why did you get it for me but instead said, “Thank you very much. You didn’t have to get me a gift.” “That is you milking the cow. While one guy is saying the cow is mine and pulls the horns, another guy is pulling the tail saying the cow is mine. You are saying I don’t care; I will just milk it. I watch you with the customers fighting over things. Granted you are being nice but they think they are right and you come in and tell them how it is. I saw this and wanted you to have it. Besides, I could get it home without breaking it. I am glad you talked me out of over packing but that didn’t leave me much room for gifts.” “Did you bring old clothes so you could leave them there?” I told him if he weren’t going anywhere nice, he could bring clothes that should be thrown away and just leave them there so he would have room for souvenirs. He looked down, “No, I brought new clothes, and I couldn’t part with them. As I was packing to come home, I thought of your words and wished I had taken your advice.” On my break I looked at his pictures. Oh, how I wish I were the one that took them. Judy and Gail both think he had a crush on me. He always wanted me to wait on him. I thought he was a nice man who liked me as a person. He was over twice my age and I didn’t think I wanted someone that old to date. “You have some beautiful pictures there.” I handed him back his phone. “You should print a couple of them.” “You know I almost got you a panel with two women trying to get their legs into a pair of men’s pants. Whoever got them on got to marry him. I didn’t think you were the type who would fight over a man.” He was looking at his pictures on his phone. I didn’t know what to say. I had no one to fight over. “Yes, that seems silly. I like the one you gave me. It made me feel good when you explained it to me.” “I wanted to get you a dove that was carved out of one piece of wood with his wings splayed out. I couldn’t figure out how to get it back without breaking the wings off. I stood in front of the man who carved it looking at it and thinking that it is beautiful but how could I get it home.” “It sounds beautiful. Again, thank you for thinking of me.” “How is your creative writing class going?” I was glad he changed the subject. “Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. I changed my major last semester to journalism. I am the assistant editor. I am better at editing than I am at writing.” “Don’t sell yourself short. Your paper about the candle wick was good.” “Thanks, it’s just that it was a short paper. When I have to draft a story, it is like pulling teeth…painful and slow. So far, I am liking journalism. Mrs. Sanders said that it might take me a little time to find my place in this world. Mr. and Mrs. Sanders have faith in me.” “We all have faith in you Sandra. You are a smart woman. You will find your way soon enough. You take all the time you need to find what you love.” He patted my hand. I slipped my hand off the table. “I think my break is over. Thank you so much for the bee panel and for letting me see all your pictures. I am glad you had a good time. I would have felt bad if you didn’t like it.” “I loved it. The country is so beautiful. More than my pictures can convey. I hope you get to go sometime. What new place have you been reading about lately?” “Have you been to Türkiye? I have been reading about Istanbul and Ephesus. Just yesterday I picked up a book on Greece. You want to talk about beautiful! Hey, I have to go or Judy will be mad at me.” Maybe Glenn liked me as a daughter he never had. I didn’t know why he hadn’t married. He was pleasant to look at and had a nice personality. I have no idea what a professor in history made but he had money to travel so to me he made enough. The Newspaper Working on the newspaper was a little more stressful than I thought it would be. Deadlines were real. I thought getting ready for opening the diner was stressful. They didn’t even compare. I wasn’t sure if I was made to be a journalist because of how they write. It’s like the reporter works harder to write less like I worked harder to write more. I spent too much time writing and putting more information into my stories and the editor, my boss, said we had to cut part of the story. No one seemed happy with my style so I was demoted to just checking the spelling and grammar. I walked into the diner and Mrs. Sanders knew there was something wrong. It didn’t take long and I confessed that I wasn’t really happy with journalism. Mrs. Sanders called over Mr. Sanders and the three of us sat at a table to discuss what was going on. “Mr. Sanders,” and he stopped me from going any further. “Don’t you think it’s about time you call me Bob and you can call her Maureen or Mo for short.” My shoulders just sagged. “We can’t do anything about our names, it’s what our parents gave us.” He smiled a brilliant smile. “It’s not that. My mom always called you Mr. and Mrs. I think she would want me to respect you and call you by your titles.” Mr. Sanders elbowed Mrs. Sanders, “Looky here Mo, we have titles.” “You know what I mean.” Mrs. Sanders said, “Sweetheart, you show us respect every day and it’s not by calling us Mr. and Mrs. Bob, here is starting to feel old and he feels that the more people that call him mister the older he feels.” “You feel the same Mo; you can’t deny it. Look Sandra, it’s okay if you call us Mr. and Mrs. or Bob and Maureen. We just worry about you and want you to come to us if you are having trouble. We feel like we are your family. If you want to call us aunt and uncle, we would be happy with that too.” He reached over to pat my hand. I got a little bit glossy eyed. They were my family. I was lucky that they stepped up when my mom died. I knew I could talk to them about anything. It was nice that they felt the same way. “Thank you for being here for me. I have to tell you that you might get frustrated with me.” Both of them said “Never,” and each of them grabbed my hand. I shared with them about getting demoted on the newspaper. I felt so lost and they could tell I was getting frustrated. I had a feeling that they were worried that I was close to quitting. Maureen patted my hand, “Sandra do you know what you want to do with your life?” I had no idea what I wanted. “If you could wave a magic wand and you would have the life you wanted, what would it be?” I sat back in my chair and fiddled with a hangnail. I thought for a minute trying to block out what was going on around me, with little effort. Bob nudged me with his foot and I smiled. I gazed back and forth between the two of them. “If I could wave a wand first, I would wish my mom back then I would wish to be a writer.” Maureen said, “Okay, well, the magic wand doesn’t work that well. Think again.” “I really don’t need to think that much because if I can’t write I want to give kids the experience that I had with the library. I would like to own a bookstore/coffee shop where I could make pastries like you taught me. It would be nice to showcase local writers, too. Do you know where I can get a magic wand?” They both chuckled. Bob stated, “You should take some management classes to see what it takes to run a business. See if you like it,” tapping me with his foot. “It wouldn’t hurt to try it. I know I make it look so easy but it’s not. You don’t see us upstairs trying to balance the budget, ordering supplies, trying to figure out if we have made a profit and what we are going to fix or update in the coming year.” Maureen was nodding her head while Bob was talking. “Yes and buy stock in aspirin for all our headaches and body aches which are superseding the headaches these days.” It was Bob’s turn to nod his head. “I will go visit my advisor. Thanks for being such great sounding boards.” I didn’t know if I would have ever thought about trying business classes. I had managed my life from a very young age. This could be my niche. Sad thing was each area that I tried. I thought that one was my niche. The first classes I took I enjoyed thoroughly. My professor had been in business and wanted a less stressful life so she decided to try teaching. She fell in love with teaching, and she was very good. She made me feel just as important as the other students in the class whose majors were business. She asked for volunteers to work on a project with her. Nobody volunteered and I didn’t know if it was the pressure that no one was raising a hand or I wanted to work on the project with her that made me slide my hand up. “Thank you, Ms. Penny. I appreciate your willingness to collaborate with me. It might lead you to a job down the road.” With that said several more hands went up. We were working on writing business plans for a couple hand-picked businesses in town. I wanted one to be a bookstore. That would help me down the road more than a nonprofit and a soap store. It was fun and nobody knew me and that didn’t matter to them. I was considered a peer. I was eating up my new area like it was chocolate covered cherries, my favorite candy. I was volunteering to the point that my job at the diner was working before the diner opened, making pastries, then doing the early morning shift. I didn’t mind smelling like the cinnamon rolls but when someone in class asked if I had eaten a pound of bacon for breakfast, I realized that I’d rather work with the customers instead of helping Maureen in the kitchen. Plus, I made a little bit more money with tips if I took orders and poured coffee. I made sure I had time to shower before class if I was working in the kitchen. I did bring in more customers when I told them I worked at Sanders Diner. My professor Ester would come in and work on her laptop during my shift. The diner wasn’t far from her office and she loved the cinnamon rolls. I gave her a little more icing because she loved it. At first, I would come back to clear her plate and you wouldn’t have known she had anything on that plate. She must have taken her finger to get all the icing up. One day I introduced her to Glenn who was sitting at the next table. He was sitting alone as usual. During my break I sat down at Esther's table and asked Glenn to join us because Ester and I were talking about Slovenia. I found out from her screensaver on her laptop that she had been to Slovenia. She was talking about Lake Bled. I could tell Glenn was eavesdropping, so I asked him to sit with us. The two of them were enjoying talking about the places that each had been and when they started to talk about different places, I knew I could leave them alone. I wasn’t needed to glue them together; they had the love of a foreign country that took care of it. From then on when one would come into the diner, they would search the tables looking for the other. If one was there a large smile would appear if not you saw the disappointment. Gail said I lost my gravy train. I just thought I connected two people who had a liked interest that they were eager to share with each other. I was not fooling myself. I wasn’t sure if it would lead to a romance but for the time being, they had a new friend. Nobody should be alone. I know I wasn’t a fan of being alone. When I went home to an empty house, I felt like I was the only person in the world. I haven’t gotten the nerve to ask someone out and no one has asked me out. I had hoped college would be better. The problem was I was inept at making anything but small talk. With my older customers I could carry a little more conversation. They helped because they were very free with their life stories. It was easy to ask them about their family, work or pets and they would carry the conversations. Management, the Key I declared my major as management in what should have been my junior year. One day, the diner was pretty empty and I asked Maureen and Bob to sit with me. “I don’t know what to do. I know my mom wanted me to graduate but my scholarships will only last one more year. I would have to dip into my mom’s life insurance policy, and I don’t want to do that. I think I am going to look for a full-time job.” Maureen was upset, “No you can’t do that. You need to graduate.” She called over Suzanne, who was an academic advisor. “Suzanne, can you pull up Sandra’s transcripts and see if she could graduate next year?” Suzanne moved things around to see if I could graduate in Business, Business Management or get a general degree. If I got the college of business to adjust my requirements, I could just take a couple classes this summer and graduate with a business degree. I didn’t have to take more classes for a general degree and have a minor in management. I opted for the general degree. If I wanted to or needed to get my masters in business I could do it. I will graduate with honors since I only have one ‘B’ in creative writing. The only reason I let myself get that ‘B’ was I was tired of rewriting my paper. It still haunts me to this day that I didn’t rewrite it. Suzanne was very impressed with my grades; she tried to get me to stay in college and get my masters. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Opening a coffee shop and bookstore would take a chunk of money and credit, and I have no credit unless you count my house. I would hate to put my house up for collateral. I would be scared to lose it. My senior year was a breeze, which made me appreciate that I kept what I thought would be easy classes for my last year. My stress was lessened by being on track to graduate on time. I had started calling the Sanders Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob. I just had a hard time calling them by their given name. Giving them the titles of aunt and uncle made it easier. A couple of times I slipped and called Aunt Maureen Mom; I was embarrassed. Aunt Maureen came over to give me a hug. “I feel honored that you called me mom. Sometimes I feel like I am standing in for your mom. It makes me feel all warm inside when you slip up. You know we were never blessed with children, and you are as close as we got.” I gave her a hug back. “Oh, you are my special mom. You didn’t have to go through the terrible twos with me or the teenage years when my hormones were a little out of whack. You do know that everyone here loves you as a mom, especially me.” We hugged again. I honestly did feel like I was their adopted daughter. They watched out for me, got upset and yelled at me if I screwed up, and most of all I could see they cared about me. At first, when I was feeling like they were my parents I felt melancholy. I thought my mom would have been hurt. I walked around my house talking to her and looking at the three pictures of us together. The more I talked to her, the more I thought my mom would be thrilled to know that someone was looking out for me. I had so many emotions going through me on graduation day. The Sanders had said they would come to my graduation but I didn’t think they would. I knew they would be busy that day. Why would they take the time to walk over to be bored? I was sad that my mom wasn’t there to see I fulfilled the pinky promise I made to graduate. I was proud of myself because I did it in four years and with honors. My biggest emotions were being scared at what I was going to do next. I didn’t do any internships because I had no idea where I would go. I still had our clunker of a car which I took to the store and back. I didn’t think it could have made it to Indianapolis for three months and if I had gotten the internship, would I have the money to pay for gas? I was thrilled to see the Sanders up front. They had to get there early to get those seats. They were wonderful stand-ins for parents. They couldn’t be more supportive than biological parents. In the sea of black gowns and hats they found me too. As Aunt Maureen hugged me, she said “Sandra, do you have any plans now?” “I was just going home until I had to work.” Uncle Bob put his arm around my shoulder, “Then you are coming back to the diner with us and having a meal before you have to work.” “I will go home and change first then I will come over.” “No, you look so pretty, you will add some class to the diner today. Shoot, we all will add some class to the dinner. I don’t think anyone has seen me in a suit before. I look pretty good don’t you think?” Uncle Bob was pulling on his lapels. “Oh, Uncle Bob you look so handsome and Aunt Maureen you look so beautiful in that dress. In all these years I don’t think I have seen you in anything but white clothes.” Not to let Uncle Bob get away with making a joke about their uniforms of white pants and shirt I had to add something. “You both look good in white but seeing you in colors is a lovely change.” I had to try to make them feel that they looked good because both of them were fiddling with their clothes. We were walking over to the diner and I was pleased to see classmates wave or say good luck. I was glad that I was able to say something back instead of just smiling. I thought I didn’t make an impression but I guess I did. I felt pretty good when we got to the diner. I saw that the lights were off at the diner. I felt bad that the Sanders closed on one of the busiest days of the year? They walked in first and when I walked in the lights went on and a large bunch of people yelled “Surprise.” I was in total shock. After the initial jumping back against the door I bent over in what was half laughing and half crying. All the regulars were there with some spouses thrown in. The place was been decorated in my school’s colors. There was a buffet with all kinds of Aunt Maureen’s special treats and sandwiches. I thought I was hugged by everyone there. I was glad I didn’t wear makeup because it would all have down my face from all the laughing and crying I did that afternoon. I was dumbfounded by all the people I saw and all the cards I received. I would put them up around the house to remind me that people did like me and I was not alone. When everyone had left and I was helping clean up the party, Aunt Maureen called me to a table in the back that was all cleared and cleaned. Uncle Bob ushered me back telling me I wasn’t cleaning up the party that was for me. When we were all seated, I could tell that they were a little nervous which made me very nervous. I was afraid they were going to tell me I was fired so I would find my niche in life. Uncle Bob started, “Have you figured out what you are going to do now that you graduated?” I couldn’t look at them, “I thought I would work here while I try to figure out what I want to do.” I could tell that they seemed unhappy with my idea. I could be reflecting my own thoughts on them. I couldn’t look at them. I was nervous about what they were going to say and I started sweating down my back, under my arms and between my legs. I wiped my forehead with my sweaty hand. “Well, your Aunt Maureen and I have a proposition for you.” These words calmed me down. “We would like to retire. Actually, everyone working here, but you, would like to retire.” He gave me a little chuckle. I didn’t understand what was so humorous about that. “We were wondering if you would like the diner?” I just looked at him in disbelief. “You know I don’t have the money for this place. I don’t think if I kept this place running with a couple workers, I could make the payments and keep this place running.” “Your Uncle Bob wasn’t clear. We want to give you the diner.” I looked at them with incredulity. “What! You can’t do that!?!” Uncle Bob sat up straight and with a broad smile said, “We don’t have children, and we desperately want to retire in a cute little bungalow where we have a yard that we can work in. We thought this would be a perfect swap. You sign over your house to us and we sign over the diner. Upstairs is a nice size two-bedroom apartment. It could be a three bedroom if you clean up the place.” “Bob, be honest with her. We have put all our energy these last ten years into the diner. We have kept the dinner and the outside of the building looking great. Our apartment upstairs has been a catch all for everything. Now, the basement would have space again if you cleaned it up. To be honest we are a couple of pack rats and everything but the diner is not that nice. We just haven’t had the energy that it would take to clean everything up. The building is in great condition. The basement is dry, which is a huge deal in this area.” “She is right. I made sure to keep everything that mattered in good condition. Of course, we have paid for the building to be in good condition. I just didn’t want to pay for the rest of it to be in good condition.” I could tell that he was embarrassed with the condition of everything but the diner. I was just as embarrassed about the outside of my place. I really was going to tackle it this year. Without the stress of school, I thought I would have the time and the energy to put into the yard. “You two know how my yard is not in the best of conditions.” I couldn’t look at them. “What am I saying? The yard is a mess but the inside is clean.” I looked up at them with some excitement which faded fast. “You know this is not an equal swap.” “We know that but like we said we have no biological children to leave this to.” Uncle Bob patted Aunt Maureen’s hand. “Mo and I think of you as our child.” Then Uncle Bob started patting my hand. “Sweetheart, we are tired of working here and when we saw your place we thought it would be perfect for us. The yard isn’t too big, and the inside is picture perfect. We will still be close enough to you that we can walk over here to have a pastry and coffee while looking at the books.” He shook my hand trying to get my eye to meet his. I just couldn’t believe it. “We want to see you have your dreams while we are still alive. If you need us, we will be here in a minute, too. Though I did promise Mo, here, a vacation to Florida when it gets cold.” Aunt Maureen had the biggest smile on her face. “We haven’t been on vacation since before you were born. That was when we had all the new plumbing and electrical work done, so we took what little money we had left and went to Tennessee to visit my sister, bless her soul.” I looked at her in disbelief. “That was before she moved back here when her health got bad.” I remember her living upstairs and helping her down and up the stairs when I started working here. It was so sad when she passed because I didn’t know how to comfort Aunt Maureen. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?” I looked at Uncle Bob with so much uncertainty. I had no clue what to say. “Shall we look at our books so you can see what you are getting into. I know you want to put a bookstore in here too so you will be losing some seating and income. Maybe you can be more creative with the space than we were. Not having a full meal, you might lose some income that way too.” Then he looked at me with uncertainty. “Really, I am not sure what you are going to want to do.” “Are you sure about all this? I feel like you are losing on this deal. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” It was my turn to pat their hands. Uncle Bob had the stern look of a father, “We have talked to our lawyer and our financial advisor about all this. Both of them say since we were leaving all this to you, this is better for you. Mo and I think this is best for us. We might be able to live longer without the stress on our bodies. Honestly, we are excited to watch you live your dreams.” “Almost as excited as if we could watch you go on a date.” I couldn’t believe Aunt Maureen and her worrying about me dating. “Now, Mo, she might be too busy setting up her new place to date yet.” “You two are too much.” I smiled at them both. “Mo is sorry about saying anything about the date thing.” He patted my hand. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it. “No, not that. I am talking about giving me this place.” “Remember dear, we are getting your place.” I looked at Aunt Maureen. She seemed so happy about this arrangement. I looked into Uncle Bob’s eyes next. He, too, looked happy. “Are you sure?” I looked at both of them with such gratitude and love. I saw it reflected in their eyes. We looked over their books, seeing them through the eyes of someone who just graduated with a “business” degree. I didn’t care what my diploma said. I thought I had enough credits for a business degree with a minor in management. They told me we would go over the books with their CPA and lawyer on Monday. When we went upstairs, I saw what they were talking about. It did need some cleaning up. Every decoration from years past was stacked or boxed up there. I thought that was true until we went downstairs, and I saw more boxes of decorations. It made sense why employees were not allowed to go downstairs. I thought the staircase in the front of the diner area would be closed off so I would have more floor space. After going downstairs, I could see that space as extra seating. The ceiling was high so I could see it was usable space. Yes, there was work to do, and I was anxious to get started. I went home and drew up a plan and started packing. I decided to donate my mom’s things I didn’t want. I had kept all of her belongings, books, and trinkets since her death. Since I was moving, I thought maybe it was time to get rid of things that I didn’t think I wanted. As for her clothes, I kept the few dresses that I liked. We wore about the same size. I was a little taller than her, but she wore them a little longer than me. My mom dressed like an old maid. All her clothes were baggy, maybe because she didn’t want Mr. Malcom to see her beautiful body. That was beneficial for me because I was bigger all the way around. She had a couple of beautiful classic dresses. The kind that never went out of style. Well, at least in my mind they would never go out of style. I kept all the books that were important to her. She didn’t want to get rid of books for the sake of getting rid of them. I took them down the street to the little library and donate all the paperback books that my mom got at the library on their dollar for a bag of books sale. Our favorite day to go to the library. I would keep all her trinkets and put them in a shadowbox. If anyone knew us, they would know that it was a pun. Of course, no one really knew us so knowing that she said “she would always be my shadow” would be lost on everyone. She didn’t have many trinkets, so I knew they were important to her. Since it was all I had of her, I thought it was the least I could do to showcase them. Boxing up the kitchen was easy because it was a waste of money spending on things we didn’t need. All the baking experience I had was baking at the diner. Aunt Maureen taught me, then let me practice at the diner. Spending money on treats was always at the diner. In high school I was making more of the baked goods that the diner offered. I loved making them and Aunt Maureen was happy to hand over the reins to me. When I had to make pastries at five in the morning after studying for an exam until late at night I began to question my love. Seeing people enjoying my baked goods was all it took to know I was doing the right thing. That was when I started practicing new pastries and adding croissants. I started having a following when I perfected them. Uncle Bob had to order boxes because people would order a dozen or more at a time for meetings or celebrations. After the meeting with the lawyer and the CPA when we signed all the papers, we went back to my house. I showed them all the essential things people wanted to know, where to turn off the water and the electrical box. Aunt Maureen was looking at all my stuff like she was trying to decide if she was going to make an offer to buy them. “You know what Sandra, your furniture is just as nice as ours. Why don’t we leave our furniture in our respective homes since they fit? We have too much to fit in here and yours wouldn’t have enough for our space.” I could not believe her. My stuff isn’t that great though when I saw theirs, they were probably from the same period. Moving day was a breeze for me because everything fit into my car. It was cool that I had a marked parking space in the parking lot behind the diner. When I got out of my car, I had to touch the sign saying Sanders Diner Owner Space. Yes, I owned Sanders’ Diner. It was hard to believe that I owned Sanders. Mr. Travis said he would be happy to stay on as my financial advisor. I thought it was interesting that he has two first names, Ralph Travis. I bet there was confusion when he was introduced to people. I knew I was confused. Mr. Jae Kim was another confusing name when I saw it. Mr. Kim said he would be pleased to stay on as my lawyer. Since both of them were in agreement to stay on I was happy I brought along my business plan for my new place. Both of them thought it was a good plan but were worried about how much business I was going to get with taking a third of my floor space for the bookstore. I told them about cleaning out the basement’s front room for customers to go down there to sit. I was making it a self-serve since I didn’t have people working for me yet. They thought I would have to get a loan for buying the books. That part stressed me out. I had never gotten a loan before. Mr. Travis said that I had collateral in the store so there should be no problem in getting a loan. Since I had the only place where people could get good coffee and a pastry off campus we had a niche. Many people who had gone through the university and stayed in town still came to our side of town to come and get breakfast or lunch. While my aunt and uncle closed at six after they offered a simple menu for dinner and I was forgoing that, I thought I would not stay open that long. Dinner wasn’t a big sell I noticed and thought I could get away with just offering lunch souffles and some kinds of bagel sandwiches. I might add it to the menu later on. I had no idea what my future offerings but at the beginning I thought it would work. I decided I would keep some of the regular items and slowly convert over to what I wanted to do. If my regular customers got upset, I would add stuff back. I had so much to do cleaning out the basement and apartment I might have to hire someone part-time right away. Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob would stay on for a month to help out. They wanted to help me succeed. I was very appreciative. A New Business I found a large old chalkboard to put the new menu on and some other items upstairs that I wanted to add back into the diner. Going through the boxes was better than any Christmas I had ever had. I was finding all kinds of gems that needed some cleaning up or fixing. It was a big deal going through things, deciding if I wanted them, donated them, try to sell them or throw them away. I had piles everywhere. A couple of times I thought I got the raw end of the deal having to clean out the Sanders’ place then I would see them come in with cuts from all the work they were doing in the yard. We each had our crosses to bear as my mom would say. I had put an ad in the window for some part-time help. A nice Italian young man who had been going to school at the university needed some work because he didn’t want to tell his parents that he needed more money to live on. He would tell me his family had the money, but they didn’t want him to come to America to study because of all the violence we had here. I couldn’t hire him legally so he begged for the job and would take the cash. He convinced me that neither one of us would get caught. He had been coming in for coffee for a while and made a big deal about how good the Sanders’ coffee was compared to the university coffee. He had helped clear tables for me before he even thought about asking for a job. I knew he was a good worker just observing him when Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob were running the place. We all commented on how nice he was to help out. At the end of the month that Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob had promised me, I hired Vincenzo and was going to pay him under the table as they say. I didn’t know who “they” were but that was my understanding of our situation. Vincenzo would come over when his classes were over and help me. If he had an hour, he would come over to do some dishes. Anytime he would curse the situation he was having with the dishwasher or cleaning up a mess that people left at their table, he would speak Italian. I have too much curiosity and I kept asking him what he was mumbling about. Apparently, I have a good ear for Italian and was picking up the language to the point he decided to teach me. I loved it when Vincenzo would show up unannounced to help. Anytime he would show up I was filled with joy. I was only a couple years older than him and treated him like my brother. Ester would try to convince me to ask him out since we got along so well. “I couldn’t date my brother” I would say over and over. He treated me like a sister, too. Teasing me to the point of us both laughing about whatever was going on, mostly about me picking the wrong word in Italian. I was learning so fast that I would get words mixed up. I knew I was mixing words up when he would look at me funny then I knew I needed to find the correct word. One day he came in and I was so excited to tell him I had dreamt in Italian. He was just as excited as I was. He remembered the day he dreamt in English and there was no one who understood what that meant. He was understanding English enough and he was surrounded with people who spoke English, he watched television in English plus he had to read in English. His teacher who was assigned to him to work on his English was the only one who understood and all she said was she thought he was ready to go to university full-time. I had been playing Italian music since I had internet. A plus with getting the diner was getting internet because everyone expected it these days. Someday I will celebrate by buying a cellphone. I had a landline phone connected to the internet and was looking forward to making enough money for a cellphone. People were always asking for my cell number and I would have to say sorry, then the dreaded questions would come…why? How can you live without a phone? The other question was would you let me buy you a phone? I knew there would come a day I would get one but for now I didn’t want to spend the money. Some people couldn’t understand why I felt the need to decline their offer when they were offering me a free phone. Until you experience not having much and the joy you get when you buy a new shirt instead of a used shirt, you will never understand. I had other expenses that were looming over me. I was looking into getting my little bookstore set up. I had contacted all the local authors asking if they wanted to have their books on display here for a small percentage of the cost. It was a good partnership. I was looking at some corporations that would let me have the books on consignment. Vincenzo said he would build me bookshelves if I bought him some wood. I found a couple of people willing to lend me some tools. We had cleared out a section of the basement for his little workshop. He was handy at building things, cleaning and teaching me about all things Italian. The favorite section I wanted to set up was travel books. I have been using my knowledge of places to visit to further the travel of the people that came to the diner. I was decorating the diner with the trinkets that people brought back for me as a thank you. The first big item I bought was an “A” to change the name of the diner from Sanders’ to Sandra’s. No one admitted to noticing but I noticed. This place was mine and I wanted to show the world. New people were coming in for my advice on travel, buying books, and my pastries. All were unexpected nevertheless it was exciting to see I had increased my clientele. I was happy my idea of adding books to the diner wasn’t futile. There were still people who liked to hold a book just like me. I was doing so well that I had the place looking like I wanted, and it only took two years. I still was in debt for some of my travel books. They were the only ones that I actually had to buy but I thought they were some of my best sellers. Everyone wanted me to put out a cookbook because they thought my pastries were amazing. I was glad people stuck with me because after all this time I thought I had finally gotten to where I wanted to be. I agreed with everyone that they were amazing. If they weren’t I wouldn’t have people coming from an hour away to buy my “works of art” as someone called them. I have never admitted to anyone that I thought they were amazing because I was afraid that I would get too full of myself. I probably put ten pounds onto my customers. Half of them admitted that to me then said they didn’t care because my pastries were worth the calories. I felt like I could take an evening walk around the neighborhood and not feel guilty that I wasn’t working. Aunt Maureen and Uncle Bob were so pleased by my progress and rarely stopped by because it was hard to find a seat, they said. I think they were just enjoying their retirement by traveling and working on their house. They had made the yard come to life with all kinds of flowers and plants. They put a new roof on the house that came out front farther so they could have a porch. That was where I found them these days in the evening if they weren’t traveling. One day they were so excited to see me. “Sandra, you have to come in to see what we have done lately.” Both of them were talking over each other. They were so animated. I couldn’t wait to see what they had done. I knew that Vincenzo had come over to do some work for them. I noticed the difference right when I walked into the house. “Oh my gosh, you widened the bedroom!” I couldn’t get over the change. “Yes, come in and see. Now more than a full-size bed fits in the room. We knew when we saw your room with the single bed, we would never fit it that.” Uncle Bob laughed. “We were so grateful that you didn’t mind us exchanging with one of our full-size beds. We had lived scooting around the bed long enough. Look, we even got a queen bed to fit in here with a dresser. We have a bigger closet. I think Mo is happiest with that change.” Uncle Bob confessed. Aunt Maureen finally got to talk. She had been about to say something a couple times but Uncle Bob wanted to finish his thoughts. “We haven’t really entertained but thought if we wanted to we should have Vincenzo make us a table with a bench on one side. We thought this size would be enough for us. We just push the table over the bench, so we have more room to walk. That Vincenzo was a real find, he is so handy. Isn’t the table beautiful?” “Aunt Maureen, it is beautiful.” She was so proud of the table as she ran her hand over the top. You could tell they used nicer wood than the pine we used to build the bookshelves. People always talked about how cool they looked. I knew he had gotten a few jobs from our clientele when they found out that he made them. I knew I was underpaying him but he insisted that he was getting more out of our deal than I was. It was hard to believe he felt that way. We didn’t even keep track of his hours. I just paid him a flat rate every week. Sometimes I got more hours and sometimes less. I insisted he had to keep his grades up. He was thinking about getting his master’s here. I hoped he would, but I didn’t want our connection to influence him. I knew we would keep in touch wherever he landed. He was my best friend and if I was honest with myself, he was my first real friend. I could be myself around him. I was running my hand over the table and Aunt Maureen took me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I was just thinking that Vincenzo does exquisite work.” “You always come up with the correct word.” She reached over to give me a sideways hug. Oh, how I miss having those daily hugs. “If you like this table you should see the kitchen table he made. Come.” We walked into the kitchen and Aunt Maureen had finally painted the kitchen her favorite color…pink. “OMG, he made this table?” It was just an ordinary table that fit perfectly in their kitchen. It was just perfect for two. He had used several kinds of wood and varnish on the wood and it was so shiny you could see yourself in it. “Yes, Vincenzo is a very talented man. I am sure he told you that his grandfather taught him all he knows.” Uncle Bob sounded proud he knew something about Vincenzo. “Yes, did he tell you that his parents don’t like that he loves to work with his hands. That is why he is here to get a financial degree so he can take over the business that his father started.” I could tell he didn’t divulge that bit of information to them. Aunt Maureen put her arm around my shoulder, “Oh, that is so sad. While he worked here, he seemed so happy. It’s a shame you two don’t have something romantic between you.” There she goes again trying to get me to start dating. When the time was right, I would find my person who completes me…one of my favorite movie quotes. “Oh, Mo how do you know there isn’t something going on between the two of them? They are always together.” Uncle Bob elbowed Aunt Maureen in her ribs and looked at me. Aunt Maureen pushed his arm away. “Because if you watch them together or when they talk about the other you only see respect. Almost like siblings but better because they admire each other. “I wish you two wouldn’t get so caught up in my lack of a love life. I promise you there is someone out there that will make me fall in love with him. I am too busy right now to search for him. I am still young; besides if I am not worried about it, you two shouldn’t be. I have a very fulfilling life. Look at me. I am truly happy.” “We just don’t want you to miss out on being in love.” Uncle Bob put his arm around Aunt Maureen and gave her a squeeze. We finished the evening on the porch eating a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, talking about their trip to Türkiye next month. I told them about the mosque that Sultan Ahmet I’s mother had built for his brother on the Asian side of Istanbul. I would get them the name of the mosque later. I couldn’t think of it at the moment. It was way smaller than the Blue Mosque nevertheless it was very tastefully done. I knew it was not in the touristy area, but I thought they should see what she built for the lesser of her two sons. Also, they could see how Turkish people truly lived. It is hard to believe that the Blue Mosque was finished just a year before Ahmet’s death at 27. I got home just before dark. That was something that bothered me about myself. I didn’t like to come into a dark building. I could work all night in the basement, dining area or my apartment but coming off the street in the dark spooked me. I knew I was silly nonetheless it was one of my many flaws. I had pretty much gone through all the boxes the Sanders left me and labeled the ones I was keeping stored in the basement. Vincenzo and I were ready for people to go downstairs. We had painted the walls a pearl white and had local artists hang their paintings for sale down there. I had had a few books stolen so I thought painting would be a better choice down there and make the room not feel like a dungeon. That was what it looked like when we started cleaning it out. Vincenzo took out the door and opened the walls around the steps so more natural light went down there. I found a good-looking second-hand couch with a couple of overstuffed chairs and some floor lamps to give it a cozier look. We had several dinette tables and a bookshelf full of games and cards that I found at a thrift shop. Down the middle of the room Vincenzo made a long table with benches on each side. Hanging from the ceiling were pendant lights with USB ports so people could charge their phones and computers while working. We were happy with the look. I have to say a few of the paintings I would never buy while others I hoped would never sell. I kind of wanted to put those on the main floor so I could look at them all day. The Day of Eva I had put up a sign in the window that I was looking for a part-time worker. I was going to have to pay that person above board unless they were another international student who couldn’t work. The second day the sign was in the window, a beautiful young woman came in the shop looking for a job. I could tell she was hesitant so I thought I would start with a simple question “What is your name?” I hadn’t seen her in here before. I was very good at remembering faces and names. Quietly she said “Eva.” “And your last name?” She started to stammer then said “Sheboygan.” “Like the city?” I said with a furrowed brow. She made a face then confessed her last name was, “Stanford.” “Like the University?” This kid was confusing me. “No, like the mayor.” “Oh” I let out the word like air let out of a balloon. “That’s okay I will leave.” “Don’t go.” I saw the sadness on Eva’s face. In rushed Mrs. Miller, my favorite customer who bought at least two books a week. She didn’t like eBooks. She loved the feel of the paper as she turned the pages. She wasn’t a fan of the library because so many of the books had been used and didn’t smell like new, another thing she loved. She would help me unpack books when they came in. Her husband was a fan of my chocolate cherry cookies and every week she took home a dozen for him and snickerdoodles for herself. When I made baklava, she would buy half the sheet to take to her dad and mom plus a section for her son and his family. I had quite the following for my baklava. Once a man from Crete cried right in front of me when he took a bite. He said it tasted like the baklava that his mom made. Every Thursday when I made a sheet, he would be the first in line to buy a couple of pieces. Mrs. Miller was all abuzz with excitement, she was carrying a bag of groceries. “Oh, Sandra, do I have something for you and me in this bag. Oh, I love it when I confuse you.” She turned to Eva, “Isn’t she adorable when she looks at me like, what’s going on here?” Eva agreed with her though somewhat reluctantly. Anyone would agree with Mrs. Miller because she was always so enthusiastic you couldn’t help but get excited. “I brought you honey from Greece, actually it came from Rhodes. You were so right; Rhodes was worth going to. It was so lovely. It has such a different feel than so many of the other islands we visited.” Again, she turned to Eva who was backing away. “Anyway, I was told that Rhodes honey is the best in the world and she” Mrs. Miller turned and pointed at me “was right. I am spreading the word that if you don’t know where to go just ask Sandra. You should open a travel agency here, too.” Eva was backing up more and I could see she was leaving. “Please Eva stay and try this honey.” Mrs. Miller turned to her, “Yes, you should try the world’s best honey.” “Mrs. Miller, I am sorry you misunderstood me. I said it was considered one of the best affordable honeys in the world. New Zealand has what is considered the best honey in the world.” “Well, we will just have to see about that on my next trip. Will you help me plan it too?” “Of course. I have some great travel books on New Zealand, and I can check some travel blogs to find what you and Mr. Miller like to do.” “I wish you would call us Mike and Donna. Anyway, I have bought you some treats as well plus,” and she pulled out an evil eye that is probably the most beautiful evil eye I have ever seen. Then she pulled out a beautiful ceramic sailboat. “I thought you could hang these because you have had enough evil in your life, and you need all the luck you can get.” She had one in each hand, and she looked back and forth between them and said. “You don’t think these counteract each other, do you?” She looked at Eva then me. Eva and I both respond “Oh, I wouldn’t think so.” We looked at each other and for the first time I saw Eva smile. I said, “Do you think we should try some good honey?” I could see that Eva was in for tasting some honey. I grabbed a couple of bamboo stirrers and one of the jars that Mrs. Miller had pulled out of the bag. “Sandra, I don’t want you to be hurt that I am asking you to make a baklava with this honey for my family.” She held up the other jar. “Don’t be silly, my mind is already going through what I should bake with this. I thought I could make my baklava and my honey cake. Oh, I have been wanting to try this honey spiced bread that is more like a cake. Now, I have some honey to experiment with. I will make sure you get some of the bread too.” Eva was about to leave with Mrs. Miller. I stopped her and asked her to sit down with me. Eva had been trying to get a job for a couple of months, and no one would hire her when she told them her last name. The mayor hadn’t been popular since he was elected. In three years, he did nothing for the citizens, just did things for his friends and family, which was a huge amount. He was being investigated for some wrongdoing. Vincenzo was handling the few customers in the shop so we had time to chat. Come to find out Eva loved books but was worried about serving people. No, she didn’t have a problem serving people, she was worried that when people found out her name, they would not want her to wait on them. I told her hardly anyone would ask her last name. Sandra looked at Eva, “How about you go without makeup, pull back your hair and braid it so it hides your curls. I bet no one would recognize you.” Eva seemed thrilled. I took pity on her and hoped I hadn’t made a mistake. I knew what it was like to be judged without people knowing who I really was. I wanted to give her a chance.

Romance books written by Kimberly Caristi. They are stories about romance, travel and food. If you love Italy you will love the pictures, stories and food. Unpublished Books: A Club I Never Wanted to Join My Summer A dventure My Mother Ruined my Life My Daughter thinks I ruined her life Crows Nest Life is... so many things The Winds of Wyoming Possibilities (Dart) The Diner

Tanzi is a level headed chef who travels to Italy with her father. She meets best friends. One who is well breed and the other who annoys her. When she comes between these two she leave to travel around Italy only to find out what and who is important to her. Written by Kimberly Caristi Tanzi is a passionate chef who waits tables more than she cooks. After losing her boyfriend and the restaurant she is working in closed she travels to Italy with her dad and meets Kyle and Phillip. She falls for one then realizes that she loves the other. She comes to the conclusion that she needs to straighten out her life before she gets into another failed relationship. “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” – Mark Twain I found out very early on why. My parents were in love. What am I saying: they are in love! The kind of love that makes a young child gag, a young adult desperately want, and an old person cherish. I heard the story my whole life. On every anniversary my dad would start with a toast to my mom. She would blush, putting her hand on his and say, “You don’t have to tell our story every year.” My dad’s response, “How else will she learn what love truly is and what it takes to stay in love?” Yes, I was a part of their anniversary every year. I had to be because I was their cherished jewel that came out of their union. It was hard enough to be told that but they told everyone we met through my high school years. I so wanted to be the hidden jewel when that story was told. Secretly, I did like the story and maybe loved the story. I think that was why it hurt when they stopped for a couple of months. But I digress. This is their story that they told. My dad would start his story about how they ended up at the same fraternity party. My dad said it was love at first sight, my mom said, it was my dad’s perseverance. To hear my mom tell the story, my dad was your typical math guy. His personality was kind of boring. He wasn’t an outdoor person at all. He wasn’t the most outgoing person. My mom thought she wanted the life-of-the-party kind of guy. Mom was very outgoing and probably has never met a stranger. She thought she needed someone as open as her. Once I asked my mom why she thought he was kind of boring because I thought he was funny. Her response, “I think your dad and I have melded together after all these years. He became more open and I have settled down. I think in a good marriage you balance each other or you become one. Your dad and I became one.” What brought my mom around to start dating my dad was he wouldn’t give up on her. When he found out she was a landscape major he would show up at her dorm with a plant each week. He would tell her he found this plant that needed some love and thought of her. By the fifth week she was waiting to see what plant he would bring her. He never asked her out. He would just talk about how she would care for this plant. Ask her how her week went? Did she have any exams yet? Simple things like that. By week ten my mom’s roommate was tired of all the plants and made my mom ask my dad out. My mom didn’t think they would have things to talk about but dad proved her wrong. My dad loved to read so he started reading about landscape architecture the day after he met her. On their first date dad took mom to Volunteer Park on Capitol Hill not far from their campus at the University of Washington. There are so many parks in Seattle to pick from, but dad chose this one because it was designed by John Olmstead. His father, Frederick Olmstead was the man who designed Central Park. Since dad was from New York City he thought it was the perfect place for their first date. Their date didn’t start off well because dad was walking around telling mom all the details of the place that he had read. Dad could see mom was bored so he changed tactics. He started asking her questions about the plants they were seeing. They could actually have a conversation about everything. They both agreed that they thought the conservatory was the highlight of the park. The greenhouse was the perfect place to stroll through on a cold and damp afternoon. Because of all my dad’s reading it led my mom into a whole different area of studies. He asked her all kinds of questions that made her look up the answers. Her own research led her down a new path. She was still in landscape architecture; it was the area of concentration that changed. She had grown up on a farm and thought she would move back and help her brother and his family run the farm. Her brother had already taken over the farm from their dad. The Christmas break after meeting my dad, my mom talked to her brother about changing her idea of coming home and working with him on the farm. Uncle Bob just wanted her to be happy and he liked the idea of her study of the ecological landscape. He was all about trying to help the environment. He was in the process of changing the way he farmed. Now Uncle Bob has an organic farm that has little impact on the environment. It was more work but the whole family felt better about leaving this place, better than when they got here. My grandpa didn’t totally understand it, but my grandma said she loved what they had done with the farm. She said grandpa was an old man who hated change, but deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. My mom realized that my dad was quiet though he was really funny and so smart he could do anything he wanted. He retained everything he read. He was like a walking encyclopedia. You never wanted to play a trivia game with him unless you were on his team. This was one of their activities they did with a few friends. Whoever had the time for a game they would look around town to find a place to play. They have traveled over an hour to play a trivia game at some pub. This was the only time mom would eat out at a restaurant. It had to be a very conventional restaurant. She was a meat and potatoes kind of gal. Dad grew up trying all kinds of foods and loved them all. Life is a series of punches. It presents a lot of challenges. It presents a lot of hardship, but the people who are able to take those punches and are able to move forward are the ones that really do have a lot of success and have a lot of joy in their life and have a lot of stories to tell, too. — Josh Turner My dad had picked the Conservatory to have their wedding the day they saw it for the first time. He knew he was going to marry my mom after that first night, she just didn’t know it until two years after they started dating. They got married before mom graduated. It only took my dad three and a half years to get his degree in Data Analytics. He was hired right away by a large corporation. As soon as mom graduated, they started trying to have a baby. They thought they would have their four children right away, then mom could start on her masters before entering the workforce. They had given up on having any children after trying for five years. They went through a bunch of tests and nothing really showed up that would prevent them from having a baby. Mom decided to go back and get her masters then got pregnant that first semester back in school. She lost the baby after a couple of months. A year later she got pregnant again but lost that baby, too, after three months. She got pregnant after she graduated with her masters and they decided she wouldn’t go into the workforce and she was very careful but still she lost the baby. They decided that they wouldn’t try anymore and mom was hired at the university as an instructor and started consulting on the side. When my dad turned 30 my mom took a pregnancy test. That night they talked for hours about what they should do. They decided not to tell anyone until she was seven months pregnant. They thought both sides of the family would go through just as much grieving as they did and wanted to spare their feelings. Seven months later I was born two weeks premature. It was perfect, my mom said. She was able to get her final grades in for the spring term and had off the rest of the summer to care for me. They named me Tanzima because it means “A wonderful gift that has landed on earth from the heavens.” My parents are not Hindu. As I have already said, my dad reads all the time. Both of my parents were so happy to finally have a child and they really felt like I was a wonderful gift. I apparently was a very good baby that turned into a very gifted child to hear my parents talk about me. I was the only girl on both sides of the family so I was showered with attention and gifts from both sets of grandparents. My aunts loved to buy me dresses because they never got to shop in a section with so many options. Apparently, the boys’ clothes section in most stores are so small and not as cute as girls’ dresses. Sad to say there were no more babies after them. I was an only child with wonderful parents and an extended family. Life sometimes seems strange when two people who loved each other to the moon and back who wanted a huge family could only have one child. Plus, you would think they would have given their only child a name that wouldn’t confuse the whole world that wasn’t Hindu. I just went by Tanzi most of the time though it still confused people. Life is a lively process of becoming— Douglas MacArthur Uncle Kenny said that he was responsible for mom and dad getting together. When my dad was a teenager, he visited Uncle Kenny while he was stationed here. My dad fell in love with the area and applied at all the universities in the area. He took the one that gave him the best scholarship. Grandpa said that the base was calling all the Lewis men to town. He would go so far as to tell people that it was named after us. Dad’s parents moved out to Seattle after Grandpa retired from the fire department. Uncle Kenny was stationed out here at Lewis McChord and both he and his wife Louise fell in love with the area. When he got out of the air force they moved back and now he was a civilian working at the base. They lived in the beautiful little town of Dupont not far from Seattle. Mom’s parents lived about three and a half hours away. Mom says they lived the perfect distance away from us– close enough so that it was an easy drive but not close enough that they could drop in unannounced. We did a lot of cleaning before my grandma Thompson came to town. My mom loved my dad’s parents and they loved her. She didn’t care if they dropped in unannounced. They lived about twenty minutes away. They babysat me most of my life. Grandpa took me fishing and grandma taught me how to bake the best butter cookies ever. They would play any card game and most board games with me. Once a month grandma and sometimes grandpa would take me to an art museum. Grandma missed the art museums she went to in New York. She wanted me to have an appreciation for art. Grandpa wanted me to have an appreciation of fun. He was always cracking jokes, especially when grandma was getting too serious. When I was younger, he made going to museums fun because he would make fun of paintings. Grandma would get on grandpa when he was being ridiculous, though she would always laugh. I pretty much did whatever I was told and when I was told to do it. I never went through the terrible twos or threes. I never talked back. You could say that our life was pretty perfect. Both of my parents had great jobs. They loved each other to the point of making me sick. I could not handle the love talk or the hugs and kisses in front of me. I was always telling them to get a room. We were a family that exercised together, much to dad’s dismay. He thought he was doing enough work in the lavish garden that we had in the backyard, then mom got us all new bikes for Christmas when I was nine and we started biking all over the town. Then we started biking in the mountains when I was thirteen. Dad was the one who suggested biking in the mountains, which surprised my mom. He was liking this biking thing after all and he was feeling so much better, plus his clothes were getting baggy on him. He liked his new look. I didn’t notice that he was overweight. I think his suits must have hidden things. Mom liked that she felt more fit biking, too. I just liked biking and running. In junior high I signed up for Cross Country and was pretty good at long distance running. Mom and dad started running too. We would run before work and school three days a week. My dad wanted to make sure that I was well rounded so I attended math and science camps in the summer. He just knew that I was going to be this math wizard because I could do fractions when I was five. I loved figuring out fractions. Especially in orange season, I loved dividing them up and figuring out what was a half, fourth, eighth and if I was lucky twelfths. My mom wanted me to help her in the garden and she would tell people that I got my green thumb from her. I really didn’t understand the green thumb until I was a teenager. I thought, well all my fingers were green from working in the garden. What was she talking about? It was not just my thumbs that were green. One day dad and I were listening to “A Way with Words” on the radio and I heard them talking about the origin of green thumbs. I did like working alongside my parents in the garden or house. I truly just loved being with them. Life is a travelling to the edge of knowledge, then a leap taken — D.H. Lawrence When I became a teenager, I was trying to decide what I was going to study in college. I had so many interests and my grades were straight A’s. My dad said I could write my ticket anywhere I wanted to go. One day my friend Emily and I were watching the movie Julie and Julia. I thought it was so cool that this woman took a cookbook and blogged about a recipe every day. Emily and I thought it would be fun to do just that, plus we both loved Meryl Streep and thought she did a really good job portraying Julia Child. We took one of my mom’s cookbooks and decided to try making everything in the cookbook though we didn’t blog about it. We put the finished dishes on our social media account. We did more than one recipe a day. Some days we would make a whole dinner for our family. It was really fun. Emily got tired of doing it after a couple of weeks. I didn’t, I started making dinner for my family every night. I already had a love of food from my dad. Going out to dinner with my dad had been our thing. Once a week we played roulette with restaurants we wanted to try. Dad made a roulette wheel that we put names on a posted note and stick them on the spaces then we would spin the wheel. When we landed on a space, we pulled the note off and added a new one. If we really liked the restaurant, we put the name back in the rotation after a couple of months. If we happen to want to try out a steak place, we invited mom. Both of my parents loved that I started making dinner because I essentially made their lives easier. I started to experiment with what dad bought at the store. He had started to buy unique items to see what I would come up with. Mom would even try the food I made and say she liked it. I knew she loved her steak and potatoes so I didn’t experiment every day. We were all having fun with my culinary excursions until the beginning of my senior year when I started to tell them I thought I might go to culinary school instead of college. This was the first time I heard my dad yell at me. He had never raised his voice to me, ever. My mom didn’t intercede on my behalf, which really upset me. She was always telling me as long as I was happy it didn’t matter what I wanted to study. Dad said he wasn’t going to pay for my culinary education if that's what I was going into. The next day I got a job as a waitress in a really nice restaurant. I was going to pay for my schooling on my own if they wouldn’t. I loved the idea of becoming a chef even more while working that year. I would be in the kitchen before my shift watching and helping if they would let me. I learned a lot from the sous-chef. She was so nice, letting me help. She told me what school to apply to and encouraged me along the way. Jess told me to get a four-year degree so I would know the business part as well as how to cook. She was told by her mentor to do just that. Jess thought you would become a better chef in the long run with a four-year degree. Jess also suggested that I work in different restaurants to get a feel of what kind of food I wanted to cook. There are so many levels between Haute meaning traditional, to nouvelle, to fusion or going the molecular gastronomy route. What ethnic food did I want to cook? I had no idea so I quit that job and started working at a Chinese restaurant since I loved Chinese food. That lasted a few months because I wasn’t allowed to help in the kitchen. I still talked to Jess every time I moved to a new restaurant. I loved working in the Greek Restaurant because I loved the people and the food. I hated to leave them but I found a small restaurant willing to let me work in the kitchen. I loved the German food but I knew if I made this food a steady diet I might not fit into my jeans for long. I also learned I was not going to make much money working in the kitchen to cover the cost of culinary school. I went back to waiting tables and hanging out in the kitchens. My parents were both disappointed that I did not change my mind by the time I graduated from high school. I graduated with a 4.0 and had a bunch of colleges sending me information that I didn’t request. I wasn’t sure if it was my parents that sent away for the information or the colleges just sent it. I didn’t care. Our idyllic life was no longer. My parents still refused to pay for my college education even though I told them I was going to go to a four-year program that would earn a Bachelor of Science degree. They wouldn’t listen to me. It was like a switch went off in their head if I tried to talk to them about it. I could see it in their eyes the far off look they gave me. It was like they were looking through me instead of at me. I had enough of the fighting and moved out one summer afternoon when they were at work. That went over like a lead balloon. They texted me repeatedly to come home so we could talk. I left a lengthy letter explaining why I moved out. I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. Life is a matter of really tough choices — Joe Biden This was the beginning of me living out of a suitcase. Whatever fit into my car was all I accumulated. If I couldn’t fit it in my car, I didn’t want it. Yes, I took the car my parents gave me for my sixteenth birthday. It was my present after all. As soon as I could, I took over the insurance for it. I decided I was going to be independent and I needed to pay for everything. My parents told me that I still was covered under their plan for my health insurance but I paid for the stitches that I needed to get. A health hazard when working in a kitchen with sharp knives. I knew health insurance was expensive and I was thankful that I was covered. Otherwise, I would have gone without insurance. I couch surfed for a couple of months until I found a few people who needed someone to rent a small bedroom. I was not a fan of sharing a bathroom, a first for me. I was a pretty neat person and two of the guys were always getting in trouble for leaving the seat up and leaving the bathroom a mess. When we females started throwing the trash in their beds, they got the hint that they’d better clean up their act. I was the youngest but they called me grandma because I was so careful how I spent my free time. I was always studying or working. I ran early in the morning, sometimes a couple of hours after they went to bed. I made the decision to work the first year out of high school to earn my independence so college would be cheaper. It took a few months and grandpa and grandma Lewis had to intervene on my parents’ behalf for me to talk to them again. My grandparents and I went out to an art show to be followed up with dinner at our favorite restaurant. They had started going to the Greek restaurant that I had worked in and we continued to eat there after I left. The Greek family still considered me family and was happy that we still came to their restaurant. We usually had dessert on the house. They made the best baklava I have ever eaten. My grandma agreed with me that it was the best. We walked into the restaurant and I couldn’t believe my eyes – there sat my parents. The look on their sheepish faces told me that they knew all about this. I felt like I had been betrayed by my grandparents. What was worse, I couldn't leave because my grandparents had picked me up. My grandma took me aside when she saw me hesitate. “Tanzi, you are going to have to talk to them sometime. This has been going on too long. We are going to sit here like five adults that we are and we are going to hash this dispute out.” She made me look her in the eyes. “Do you understand me?” I knew she meant business. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked into her eyes to see if my next statement would connect. “Did you say the same thing to them because they were not listening to what I had to say? That is why I left.” “Oh, honey, they got a very long lecture from me when you left and last night when I stopped by their house.” She gave me a huge smile and then one of the best hugs I have had in months. Well, we sat down with my parents and things were a little strained at first. Then my grandpa Lewis started making really bad jokes and the mood changed. We had a very nice dinner, even mom enjoyed the food. I told her what to order and she really liked it. Even though it was chicken she thought maybe I could cook it for them some night when I moved back. I could tell that I hurt them again when I told them that I wasn’t moving home. This brought on a whole discussion about what it meant to be independent and I was prepared for it. When I told them I had met with our insurance guy about taking over the insurance for the car the other day, they were shocked. When my dad recovered from the shock he was impressed. He turned to my mom and said our little girl has grown up. They were happy to keep paying for the car, which I was happy about. My life is a struggle — Voltaire I was working my fingers to the bones taking any overtime when I could get, sometimes working two jobs and taking classes at a community college. I knew I wanted this four-year degree but it was going to be expensive. The only help I was getting was verbal advice from Jess and every once in a while, a chef would make a comment to me about what I should be doing. I took everything that was told to me and made a diagram to my end goal of getting a BS in a culinary school. I knew I was going to be in debt for a long time. I really didn’t care, though I had no idea what I was really getting into. Everyone was in debt, right? It was nothing new. I just knew I wanted a BS and I was going to do it on my own. I told my parents that I applied to the CIA and was accepted. I was excited to report that I got a scholarship. My parents were in disbelief. They sat there with their mouths hanging open. “What about cooking? I thought you wanted to be a chef.” I started laughing, “The CIA is the Culinary Institute of America. Did you really think I was going to be a spy?” It was a good laugh until they found out it was in California. They had hoped I would stay up here in Seattle. I assured them that Seattle was my home. I would be back because there were so many good restaurants around here that I knew I could get a job back here when I finished. I said my goodbyes to everyone and drove my Prius down to Napa. My scholarship did not cover all expenses and really quickly my credit card bills started to pile up. I didn’t know how it happened that I was getting into so much debt. I was working while going to school. I wasn’t into clothes. I didn’t eat out much: between work and school, food was pretty much covered. After a year I told the school I couldn’t afford it anymore and moved back home. I missed my family anyway. I was glad I did. My grandpa Lewis died about six months after I moved back home. He was the light to everyone. He was so smart and quick-witted. Even though some of his jokes were lame we still laughed. He was so full of wisdom that everyone sought him out when they had a problem. We were all like lemmings. We followed him around. He gave the best hugs and the twinkle in his eye would make you feel better in an instant. Dad, Grandma and Uncle Kenny were so heartbroken it was difficult to watch. I busied myself in the kitchen making food for everyone who stopped by. Grandpa had so many friends here and I don’t know how many flew in from New York. We almost needed a traffic cop for all the people stopping by. Since Grandpa moved here, he and Grandma still helped out at the fireman picnics and brought dinner to the stations. We had no idea how involved my grandparents had gotten since moving here. I think they have more friends than my parents. Grandpa was buried with some Firefighter honors. He was a true hero saving so many lives. The evening before his funeral we read through some of the thank you letters that he received after a save. It really warmed my heart to read some of those letters. We picked out a few of the letters to read at the funeral. Grandpa thought it was funny that he wanted to be cremated and would make bad jokes about it all the time. It turned out to be really funny when the fire truck was our escort to the crematorium where he was going to be cremated. Uncle Kenny said that was our last joke that grandpa would play on us. We were laughing and crying at the same time. I assume for all different reasons. Grandma Lewis was so confused the whole time. She just went where we told her to go and sit when we told her to sit. Since I was the only girl child I stayed with Grandma and helped her dress and undress. For being an old lady, she still had a figure in a dress but seeing her almost naked was a real eye opener. I didn’t understand why she was so out of it until my mom took me aside and told me she heard you can only think about ten percent of your ability after a death. Grandma and grandpa had been married sixty years and had known each other their whole lives, having grown up on the same block in New York City. The death was a total shock so grandma was probably unable to think at all. After the funeral I was spending more time at grandma’s than I was in my own apartment. Grandma finally talked me into moving into her spare bedroom. I told her I would pay her rent or I wouldn’t move in. She agreed though she made sure I knew she wasn’t happy about it. She knew my schedule was very tight between going to school and work so she made no demands on me. When we were together and I wasn’t studying we would play cards or she would show me a movie she thought I would like. We were ideal roommates. We were both clean, well-mannered and quiet. Grandma worried about me because I wasn’t dating. I told her I didn’t have time to date. Besides, all I met were restaurant people and I knew I would never marry any of the guys I met at work. They were either poor, worked all the time, drank too much or did drugs. None of these things made a man attractive to me. I didn’t mind going out on group dates with the guys from the restaurants. There was a clear understanding of where I drew the line on what I was willing to do or go when I was with them. I didn’t want to be around drugs which they understood and if they did them while we were together, they did a pretty good job of not letting me see it. Because of my reluctance to date men in my field, grandma would try to set me up with sons of firefighters she met. Grandma would pull me to this or that function if my schedule would allow. She wasn’t very smooth about it either, which was so embarrassing for me. I just wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. Sometimes I would agree to go on a date, sometimes both the guy and I would feel the pressure to say yes. A few of the guys I went on more than one date, but what guy wants to go out on a date with a woman that needs her sleep and works forty hours a week and goes to school part time? Our hours of free time rarely worked out. I did find a running partner on one of the dates, but this was all we did together. We met in a group on Saturday mornings around seven and ran, then went to a cute little coffee shop and had breakfast afterwards. I have met some really nice people in this group. Life is a bunch of ups and downs. It's how you handle it —Baker Mayfield My mom and dad lived a very healthy life running, biking and eating healthily. They only drank on weekends and it was the night they went to trivia. Dad had one drink and mom had two. Dad was the designated driver. When we went out to dinner, we each had a glass of wine that complimented the meal. I was getting pretty good at pairing wine with dinner now through my education in the classroom and the restaurants I worked in. Dad was having more trouble keeping up with my mom when they were exercising and one day dad just didn’t have the energy to run. Mom made him go to the doctor as soon as he could get in, which was a couple of weeks. Mom went with him, which I knew was a sign that she was scared. I begged her to text me as soon as they were finished with the doctor. When I didn’t hear from her, I knew something was up. When I got home from school their car was in the driveway. Instantly I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the kind that makes you afraid to move because you might throw up. I sat there in my car in the driveway, not moving. My mom finally came out of the house to get me. She helped me out of the car and I clung to her afraid to let go. “Tanzi, it is going to be alright. There is a good chance he will beat this.” That was all I remember from that night. Oh, I also remember the words Hodgkin's lymphoma. Two words I had never heard before and wished they were never a part of my vocabulary. My head was spinning all night. After I held onto my dad for what seemed like hours listening to them talk about the cancer and the plans to get dad cancer free, I had to go to work. I was messing up left and right at work and they sent me home. I asked if I was fired and they laughed. Apparently, I was their best worker. I thanked them and went home and did my own research on Hodgkin's lymphoma. I had gotten into the Washington State University culinary program and was happy there. Doing this research on cancer I came across Bastyr University and saw that I could get a bachelor of science degree in nutrition and culinary arts. I liked the idea of the holistic approach I could take there. I applied that night. I was hoping I wrote coherently because it was after two a.m. and I am not great after midnight. I didn’t know what I was doing, letting myself go deeper and deeper into debt. I just knew what my passion was and it was cooking and my family. My scare with my dad showed me I needed to be around my parents more. Okay, now I was spreading myself thin as could be with work, school and seeing my parents more. I finished out the semester at WSU and started at Bastyr the next semester. Now I would be learning about all the holistic approaches to eating. I was making my dad eat better. I didn’t have to change much but I was feeling better that I was making food he could take to work for lunch so no more eating out at whatever restaurant that fit into his schedule. Since I moved out my dad would put money into my savings account, when he saw the amount drop below a thousand dollars. He thought he was sneaking money to me without me knowing. They set up my account when I was ten and our savings accounts were connected. If I wanted to, I could have put money into their account as well. I thought about putting the money back that he was transferring but instead I would transfer that amount into another savings account. This saving was increasing by leaps and bounds while I was in school. I couldn’t wait until I was out of school, then I could start paying off my debt and I would feel better about my situation. It was hard not to take this money and pay off some of my debt but I was bound and determined to do this on my own. Besides, I had plans for this money that I was saving. I wanted to take dad on a trip to Italy. I didn’t know this when I started to put it in a new savings account, I just knew I wanted to take him on a trip. During my dad’s chemo I made him food that would help with the sickness from the treatments. At least, I hoped it was helpful. He always had a brave face for us. One day dad caught a cold which scared mom and me. We were so afraid of any sickness. We were right to be scared because the cold went into his chest and he ended up in the hospital for a few days. This was when I decided we were going to Italy. While we sat with him in his hospital room, he talked about wishing he had gone to Italy. Mom told him she was sorry she kept him from traveling. She promised she would make it up to him when he got better. During this time, I felt so bad for my mom. She was so full of guilt. My grandma Thompson was sick on the other side of the state and with my dad going through chemo she didn’t feel like she could go home. I finally talked her into going home when dad was finished with his last chemo. Well, we were hoping it would be his last one. He still had many doctor appointments and scans to have, so we were keeping our fingers crossed. I stayed with dad while she went home. Dad said he didn’t need a babysitter but mom said she wouldn’t go unless someone was here with him. He was happy to have me stay with him if she would finally go see her mom. Mom ended up staying a couple of weeks because grandma was worse off than her family let mom know. Grandma Thompson passed away with all of her family by her side. A couple of days before her death mom called to say grandma was bad. Dad and I both called work to tell them we wouldn’t be in. We drove through the night to be with mom and of course to see grandma. Grandma was in and out of consciousness. On one occasion when grandma was coherent, she took her wedding ring off her finger and gave it to me. She whispered, “I want you to have all my jewelry but this one is the most important piece. When a man wants to replace this ring, you make sure he is worthy of it. Make sure he is as good as your grandfather. If he was half the man your dad is, you have a keeper.” I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at my dad and he was crying, which made me cry. I just laid my head on grandma’s chest and told her how much I loved her and I would make sure that I got a good man. We were all in grandma’s room telling stories about growing up and laughing when my mom turned to grandma and noticed she wasn’t breathing anymore. She had a smile on her face. When I say she passed away she really did just pass away. I had heard stories about people dying and some of them were terrifying. If I had a choice, I wanted to be surrounded by family telling funny stories and just pass away like she did. I drove mom’s car back the day after the funeral. Dad and mom stayed for another week. I got home and opened up my suitcase to find my grandma’s jewelry box in there. I hadn’t taken anything but her wedding ring which I still had on my finger. My mom must have put it in my suitcase. The jewelry box wasn’t big because, let’s face it, grandma was a farmer. You can’t wear a lot of jewelry around the farm, just like a cook can’t wear jewelry when working with knives and flames. The pieces of jewelry she did have were nice pieces. I really liked her wedding ring plus what she called her cocktail ring. The cocktail ring had a huge black onyx with little diamonds all around it. She had a couple other rings and when I put them on my fingers, I thought they looked funny. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them. I just wasn’t used to seeing rings on my fingers. She had a beautiful tennis bracelet that Grandpa Thompson had given her on their sixtieth wedding anniversary last year. She wore it every day since she wasn’t working on the farm anymore. She loved showing it off. Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward. —Henry Ford I sat there looking at my grandma Thompson’s jewelry thinking I probably could sell it all and pay a huge chunk if not all of my debt off. I flopped down on my bed to really think about it. This really was grandma’s jewelry, not mine. I couldn’t sell it. I took a deep breath. My family would disown me if I did something like that. My cousins had girlfriends that they would probably marry since they had been together forever. They probably wouldn’t have minded having grandma’s wedding ring to give to their girlfriends. I guess I was stuck with them. I didn’t know when I would wear them. I put everything back in the box and put the box in my underwear drawer. I kept getting bill after bill and I kept working hard. I had one semester left and I would graduate from college. It had only taken me ten years to graduate. I didn’t know what to do now. Dad was doing great. He only had to go to the doctor once a year now. Mom and dad have taken a couple of trips since he was feeling better. It drove me nuts when they came home. It was like they weren’t on the same trip. Their stories were so different. What hurt was they didn’t see that I would have given anything for a vacation or even just a long weekend away. I just kept plugging away at work and studying pretending everything was alright. Grandma Lewis had stopped setting me up, which thrilled me to death. I didn’t have time for anything right now. My parents decided to plan a graduation party for me which I thought was stupid but I didn’t want to cause any waves so I went along with it. Graduating was such a relief: no more paying money out of pocket to get an education unless I decided to go for a master’s or doctorate. Sometimes I thought about it because I was not sure where I wanted my life direction to go. Did I get a job at a hospital, work as a private chef, or keep working in a restaurant? I could throw in some more options but I got overwhelmed when I started looking for a job. I made the decision to keep working at the restaurant right now. I had a job on the line in a boutique restaurant that offered local food and craft beer. I made more as a server. This was frustrating for me. Something unexpected happened at my graduation party. I met a friend of my dad’s son. He had just moved back from the east coast. We hit it off right away. He liked my sense of humor, which I knew was an acquired taste. Grandma was happy to see that I was dating more than once every couple of months. Because of my hours at work, we had to get creative with his work schedule so we could go out on a date. At first, we were doing great, making time for each other, then Tim started to complain about my work schedule. I started to look around for a job that would fit a normal work schedule. Really a job that would fit his work schedule. When I found a day job and put in my two-week notice, my boss said he was going to offer me the sous chef job when Sandy, our sous chef got her head chef job at his new restaurant. It was hard for me to pass that up. I knew it would be only a few more months but I didn’t think Tim would be able to handle much more of me working there. It broke my heart that I had to give it up. Grandma Lewis wasn’t happy when I told her about it. “Why are you changing your life for this guy? You worked hard to get where you are. Do you think he would change his job to suit you?” All I could tell her was I was trying to live a normal life whatever that was. My new job was not as great as my old job. The people were not as fun to work with. It really felt like a job not a passion. After a couple of months, I was looking for a new job. Tim was putting more demands on me, too, like expecting me to always cook for him instead of taking me out to eat. He didn’t understand when I complained about not getting any time off of work. I got a new job where I got to be on the line prepping food and serving part-time. It was a new hip restaurant that was just starting up. The people I met were very nice and were joking with me right from the start. They didn’t know if I was a real chef because I didn’t have any tattoos they could see. I said I was starting a new look for chefs. I was going back to the Julia Child era. I said this in my perfect Julia Child imitation. Only a couple of people knew who Julia Child was but I wasn’t going to hold it against them. I was looking forward to this new endeavor. I wasn’t always free when Tim wanted me to be but I told him to get used to it. I had this new opportunity and I was taking it. The job and Tim were starting to fail after six months. I didn’t know which one was going to end first. I didn’t know which failure was going to hurt me more. I had pretty much had it with Tim and his demands. He was taking way more than giving and I was tired of it. It pissed me off that he broke up with me before I had a chance to break it off with him. He went on a vacation without me and never told me he was going. I got a text from him telling me he left for Colorado on a ski trip. That was it. I couldn’t believe he went on a trip without me! When he came back, I was going to end it. He had the gall to send me a selfie of him and another woman on a mountain telling me it was over between us. I scared Grandma to death when I let out a blood curdling scream. She came running to my room ready to find an intruder or me bleeding to death. I have never heard my grandma cuss before when she opened my door to see me pacing back and forth. “Damn you Tanzi. What the hell is the matter with you?” I couldn’t say a word, I was fuming. I finally showed her the picture Tim sent. “Can you believe him? After all I did for him!” “Well, he can go to hell then.” I started to laugh, “Grandma I never heard you cuss before. Have you been hanging around my people too much?” “I guess I have. Your grandfather would have been proud of me cursing. He said I was too prim and proper for too much of the time.” I gave her a hug. “You are just the right amount of everything Grandma.” I think our life is a journey, and we make mistakes, and it’s how we learn from those mistakes and rebound from those mistakes that sets us on the path that we’re meant to be on. — Jay Ellis The restaurant only lasted another couple of months after my break up with Tim. I went down with the ship. I couldn’t leave. The people were so nice but they were in a bad location, but most of all they were ill equipped to run a restaurant. I tried to help and I thought the pride they had prevented them from taking help or suggestions from anyone. The failure of the restaurant happened at the same time Dad was coming up on his five-year check on being cancer free. I was turning thirty in a month. I really had no money in my savings account but I did in the savings account that I set up with his money he had given me, I had enough to give my dad and me a wonderful trip. I talked to my mom about it and she really didn’t want to go. Besides, she had a big project she was finishing up and couldn’t leave. I thought she was just saying this so I would go with my dad alone. She thought it would be a wonderful gift to give dad. Just the two of us going somewhere. I talked to grandma about it, too. I said when I came back. I would look for a job and would she mind if I didn’t pay her rent this month and maybe next month. She was fine if I didn’t pay any more rent at all. I assured her while I was gone, I was going to decide how to use my degree the best I could and find a real job that I could see a future in. She was so happy that I was planning a trip with dad. I told her she could come along if she wanted. No, she wanted dad and me to have a special trip. Dad came home with great news. No more cancer! I made a special dinner for all of us. I even invited Uncle Kenny and Aunt Louise. Grandma Lewis was my date for the evening. I wished all my dates were as understanding as her. During the dessert of tiramisu, I made a toast. “To Dad, may he never have cancer again. For that matter may none of us ever have to say cancer again.” Everyone cheered to that toast. “Dad, I have a gift for you to celebrate.” I handed him an envelope. “What’s this?” He was looking around at everyone. “Do you know all that money you thought you were sneaking into my account? Well, I put it in another account then into CDs. I have a great teacher.” I patted his hand. “We are using this to take a trip to Italy…just you and me with a lot of Italian food and wine for two weeks.” “No, you should have used that money for school.” “You told me that you weren’t paying for my schooling.” “Well, I was wrong. You should take this money and pay off your debt.” “Too late, you already have two weeks off. Mom and I talked to your boss. You have a few days to tighten up loose ends then it is me and you flying off to beautiful Italy.” Dad looked around the room at everyone smiling so big and he shook his head and said, “Buon viaggio everyone.” Then he raised his glass in a toast. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you as a daughter.” I got out of my chair and went over to give him a huge hug and a kiss. Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it. — Sai Baba This trip was to be a special vacation with my dad. A celebration of life though it turned out way more than that. In many ways it was the beginning of my story. A whole new world opened to me the minute we stepped off the plane. I rented a car with a manual transmission. I had learned how to use a stick when I learned how to drive, then my parents bought me a Prius that was automatic. It was a little shaky pulling out of the parking lot but I never stalled. Dad wanted me to drive because he was afraid he would drive too slow for the Italians. He knew they drove fast. He had done his research before leaving Seattle, plus he read most of the flight. We were both tired and the drive to Lake Como was a little difficult. It had taken us the better part of a day of travel to get to this point. We tried all the tricks we knew to have a successful flight. We ate very healthy the week before and kept hydrated. On the plane we drank a lot of water, too. I was glad we traveled first class so we were not climbing over people to go to the bathroom. We took a sleeping aid to make sure we slept. Still, we both were tired. I think we should have gone for a run before we got in the car. Instead, we went for a run when we got to our hotel. “Okay, Dad I will meet you downstairs when you are ready. I am going to stretch out front until you get there. It is such a beautiful day I don’t want to miss any of it.” “I will race you downstairs because I was thinking the same thing coming up in the elevator.” I walked into my room and I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. Dad insisted that I get the room with a view of the lake. I have a little balcony that we could sit and have a coffee on in the morning. I walked around the room and touched everything. The room was filled with antique furniture. The wood was honey brown and with the walls a dusty rose, it is hard not to wish I could just stay in the room. The silk comforter was just a beautiful maroon with pearl color roses throughout. I ran my hand across the comforter and thought what it was going to feel like to lie down on it. I knew tonight would probably be an early night, then we would get on schedule. I was looking forward to going to sleep tonight. I beat dad downstairs by seconds. I ran down the stairs and he took the elevator. I told him he cheated and he reminded me this whole trip would be a cheating experience. He was only running because I was making him or he would be lying down on his beautiful bed. He told me I would have to check out his room. He might not see the lake, nevertheless the view was breathtaking. We took a lovely run down by the lake. Both of us kept pointing out things and it was hard to run and sightsee at the same time. We had to go off the trail once when dad saw a gelateria. We sat there looking at the mountains and the water, eating two dips of gelato. My new favorite flavor is amarena. I had never had anything like it. I loved sour cherries and chocolate together. The woman serving asked if I wanted an amarena with the chocolate swirled through it. Oh, I was in heaven. It would be hard to try a different flavor. Dad loved it, too. I thought his pistachio was good though two dips would have been too much for me. He didn’t have any trouble getting them down. We both couldn’t wait until the next time we got to have gelato. Dad suggested my flavor would be good in coffee. My dad and I made perfect travel partners. We loved trying what the other ordered. When we finished the run, we went back to the hotel to shower and dress for the day. We both felt better after the run. I thought the gelato helped, though now we were off to find a restaurant for lunch. Dad said he planned to eat his way through Italy and worry about it later. He would run each morning with me but I was to plan on eating a lot while we were here. I set up a cooking class for tourists in Bologna as a surprise for him. I wouldn’t mind taking a class in making Italian food. I was just excited about going to Bologna for the food. We were stopping in Modena and Parma on the way down there next week. I knew dad has wanted to come to Lake Como since he read a couple of books that take place here. I was the one that wanted to go to the Emilia Romana region. I had to be careful not to wish my time away while here. I really needed to be in the moment. We had asked the desk manager at the hotel where to go for lunch. He was more than happy to tell me about this little hole in the wall restaurant. He thought we would like it. We almost missed it because we were gawking at everything in sight. It was so beautiful here. I was thinking I could move here in a minute. I thought my dad felt the same way. We walked into the restaurant and the whole place was wood paneling and the table and chairs matched the paneling. I wouldn’t have decorated this restaurant like this but it must work for them. It has been a restaurant for over a hundred years. We were seated where we couldn’t even see out the one window. I was a little nervous because neither of us really spoke Italian. Dad had two years of it in college, which was a long time ago. You could smell the grease from the kitchen so I thought we were going to have something fried. Dad asked for the specialty of the house and something else for her…pointing to me. I gave dad’s toe a kick and thought the next time I was ordering for him. When the waitress left, I said, “You have no idea what we will get. We could end up with tripe. I knew I was supposed to be adventurous, nevertheless the lining of a cow’s stomach didn’t sound like something I wanted to be my first dish in Italy.” “Do you really think we will get tripe?” “I know they eat it here.” “Should I call her back?” Now, he looked a little worried. “No, but if we get tripe, you are eating most of it.” “I will give it a try. I think your mom would because it comes from the cow. What do you think?” “I don’t think you know mom at all. She would never eat it.” I just shook my head at him. Sweetheart, I have never seen you with jewelry on. Is that all from your grandma Thompson?” “I never get to wear rings so I decided that I would wear them all,” smiling so brightly. It made me feel closer to her and a little more ladylike. She would always talk about being more ladylike. I needed to wear more dresses and jewelry, she would say. I was fingering my locket when I realized that I didn’t show him what I did with it. Opening it up, “Dad, mom is with us on this trip.” I had taken one of my favorite pictures of them and put mom on one side and dad on the other. “Oh, honey, that is so sweet. I love that picture. Mom looks so beautiful. I think that was taken before I got cancer. My hair in that picture is my real hair.” “Dad, you still have hair. Yes, it might be curlier than it used to be and a lot grayer. You should be happy you still have hair. Several of my friends' dads have lost their hair, and they didn’t have cancer.” The woman brought us a little plate of fried fish that she called Shad. We will have to look that one up. She spelled it for my dad. I knew he would remember it. It was a little salty. Even so it was delicious on the bread. I thought they made their bread. It was so fresh and tasty. When the woman set a plate of creamy polenta with another kind of lake fish in front of my dad, he had the biggest smile. We were able to figure out that dad had perch on the polenta. I got a pork cutlet pounded out perfectly with roasted potatoes. We had made the deal to switch after we had eaten half and both of us were a little reluctant. We both were pleasantly surprised that we enjoyed the other dish as well, even though it wasn’t as hot. Next time we agreed we would just split the dish right away. Both of us were happy that we asked where to eat. We would have never seen this place. We were lucky to stumble onto it.. I knew we wouldn’t have stepped foot in it if the clerk hadn’t suggested it. When we stepped out of the restaurant, we were hit by a cold breeze coming off the lake. No wonder why they only had one window and a small door. I was sure when it was winter there were fewer cracks for the wind to rush through. The winter pictures I had seen in the hotel and the restaurant made me think I would love this place just as much in the winter. I might just have to come back here to ski in the alps. I knew my credit card company would like that idea. A person could dream, couldn’t they? We were reluctant to get in the car and drive somewhere so we just walked around the town and enjoyed the sights. We stepped foot into a few galleries, a couple of shops and we just had to stop in a gelateria for an afternoon snack. Okay I found my new favorite flavor: fruit of the woods. Dad got lemon. We agreed we wouldn’t get the same flavor twice if we could help it. We were in heaven. Everything we saw, we couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. We were in overload mode now because we just wanted to sit and enjoy the view. After seeing a couple of churches and one cathedral dad said he would have stayed a Catholic if he had been able to go to church here. We still have a couple of Basilicas to walk through and he was ready to go back to church. There were times like these when I wished I was raised in a church. I had nothing to connect to like Grandma Lewis and Grandma Thompson. They went to church every Sunday. Maybe when I went back home, I would go to church with Grandma Lewis. She might be surprised when I accept her offer to go. She had asked me every week since I moved in with her over five years ago. I couldn’t believe it had been that long. Maybe I should look for a place of my own. I knew I would never beat the price and I had someone who would cook for me. I loved cooking but I did enjoy a day off sometimes. It was dinner time and dad wanted to try pizza. I thought I could have done a better job though the simplicity of the pizza made it very enjoyable. I did like more herbs in my sauce. That said, the dough was what makes the pizza and the toppings did not subtract from the star of the dish, the crust. It was an early night for the two of us. Before we went to bed, we checked out each other’s room. I could barely tell he had a view because it was so dark on his side of the hotel. My room you could still see the lake. His furniture was darker than mine and they didn't match. Mine all matched, which I thought gave the room a more put together look. His bed looked just as nice as mine though his comforter was lemon yellow with swirls of blue and green. It looked to me like waves crashing into the sun. On my beautiful dresser I placed all six rings I brought with me and took off my necklace. I had to stretch my fingers out after taking them off. My hands were not used to wearing all those rings. It was kind of cool to be able to wear them. I didn’t care if one of them was a wedding ring. I was going to switch them around each day and see if I liked one ring better on a certain finger. I stood there looking at grandma’s wedding ring. I picked it up and played with it, thinking about my life. There wasn’t much to think about. I was too busy to date much in high school. I had a group of friends I did things with on weekends. It was a mixture of guys and gals. We only had one couple, who ended up together, out of the whole group. They got married in college and had everyone over a few times a year. They have me cook for the group once a year. It was fun but I was the only one who was still single this year. I couldn’t believe I was thirty, no job, no partner and a big debt. I set down the ring. I vowed that I would be married by forty and have a child. I hoped I could have children. I hoped my mom hadn’t passed down her problem. I slid into my bed and thought how nice it was to have satin sheets. I woke up to my alarm going off on my phone. I lied there thinking, do I really want to get up to run? I threw back the cover and slid off the bed. Yes, I wanted to run because I wanted to eat anything and everything. I hoped we could top yesterday’s food or at least have food just as good. Dad was waiting for me outside. “You wanted to have lots of food, too?” I laughed, “You are so right. My bed was so comfortable. Was yours?” “Oh, yes, I am going to have to look at the mattress because your mom and I could use a new one and I think it will be that bed. By the way, I don’t think the hotel people like my running gear. You should have seen the look I got.” “Oh, I meant to say something to you yesterday when you were coming out of the elevator. I saw the owner look at you and shake her head. I am not sure if it is that we are runners or that we wear skimpy clothes. I didn’t see any runners yesterday but they have such nice pathways around here.” I looked around, “It looks like we will be running in Seattle today.” This was very disappointing. I thought Italy would be sunnier than Seattle. There would be no sightseeing while running today, even though running through the streets still gives me chills that I was actually running in ITALY! After the run we thought it would be best if we showered and dressed before we went down to breakfast. By the time I got to breakfast dad was already on his second cup of cappuccino. He was sitting there with a plate filled with half eaten pastries and fruit. When I sat down, he was all smiles. “Please don’t tell your mom how I have eaten while we are here, please.” He was actually begging me. “Dad I won’t as long as you continue to run with me and when you get back you don’t cheat for a month.” “Okay, you drive a hard bargain,” frowning. “I mean no fatty foods or alcohol. You have to eat more spinach, raspberries and all the antioxidant foods I have taped to your refrigerator.” “If I eat some of that food while here, can I have a glass of red wine on Fridays?” He smiled that smile I couldn’t resist. “Okay, though I don’t want you counting gelato as one of those foods unless it is low in sugar and fat. I think the fruit of the woods sorbet I had yesterday would count.” I got the biggest smile from him. “I can handle that.” “You know if you keep eating like this you are going to get sick.” “Oh, but it is so wonderful going down.” I leaned in, “Dad! Seriously, what should I waste my calories on?” “That is easy…everything! These croissants are just as good as yours.” My dad knew the right things to say. I remember going through croissant week, month, year in school. It started out just wanting to learn how to make puff pastries then I added on more pastries until I had a minor in pastries. Working in the Greek restaurants helped when it came to learning how to make baklava. I learned how to stretch that dough or the owner’s mother would smack my hand with a wooden spoon. When I told my grandparents about this, Grandpa Lewis told me that the nuns at his school used to hit him with a ruler. After gorging ourselves with pastries, yogurt, fruits and topping them off with cappuccinos we decided to drive up into the mountains hoping to get out of the fog. I have to admit I was driving too slow for the locals. I had high beams flashed at me too many times to count. I saw a sign for a parking lot and took it. I told dad I have had enough of driving in the fog and that if he wanted to take over, I would be more than happy to hand over the keys. He wanted nothing to do with driving in this soup. Dad had read you always wanted to go to the center of the town. He said there were two reasons for this, the first reason is most of the action was in the center. The other was the tourist information was usually located there so you knew what to see in the town. We saw signs for the center and started walking. We could feel we were walking up a steep hill that had those cobble stones but that was all we could see. We were walking up a road that we thought was just a walkway when all of a sudden, a motorcycle came roaring around the corner. Dad and I jumped to the opposite side of the road and put our backs up against the walls. I hated to admit it but I screamed. As soon as the motorcycle passed us dad came running over to me and locked arms. “I could hardly see you on the other side of the road. Let’s keep together until we get in the middle of town.” I was comfortable with that. The higher we went the better we could see. There was more foot traffic and cars as we got closer to the center. We got to this bridge that went over rushing water – not that you could see the water, you just heard it. I could see this as an eerie scene in a murder mystery movie from long ago. I realized I had been watching too many movies with Grandma Lewis at this point. I expected to see a bunch of people in trench coats and Fedora hats whispering to each other. The sound of the rushing water echoed through the mountain passes and added to my overactive imagination. When we got to the top, we were still in fog, but you could see for probably a mile into the mountains. Looking out over the river that we couldn’t see, the fog was so dense along its path through the mountains. It looked like a river of floating white clouds. It was a very cool sight. I tried taking pictures of it, but they didn’t come out as cool as it looked. We milled around town looking in the shops for a gift for mom and grandma. We stopped in a jewelry shop and bought mom, grandma and my two aunts silver earrings. Apparently, Italy has a lot of silver. The earrings were so beautiful and they weren’t that expensive. I contemplated buying myself a pair. I kept coming back to these blue sapphire studs. They were very simple and I could wear them to work. I told myself I didn’t need to spend any money on me. I could have spent longer in this store. There were so many things to look at and they were all gorgeous. Dad on the other hand got tired of exploring after he found what he was looking for. “Honey, it’s after one. Don’t you think it’s time to go have lunch? All this shopping has made me hungry.” “Let’s go to that little bistro we saw by the river. We can sit outside and look up at the mountains.” “Sounds like a plan.” We were happy to sit outside even though you were sitting on top of each other. Seriously, the waitress had to turn sideways to get through the tables to wait on people. The tables were so small, really only two people could fit at them. I could see that this place would be more suitable for having drinks and looking at the mountains with a few friends. We were seated next to two handsome men in the corner of the patio area. It was hard not to stare at them when we were being seated. If we were back in Seattle, I would have enjoyed being seated this close to a couple of really good-looking men. I would have rather it not be with my dad seated across from me but rather one of my girlfriends. Though with my luck they would be gay and on a romantic date. We would have a great time chatting then go our separate ways. Since we were in Italy, I knew we would be going our separate ways after lunch. Dad was driving me nuts with his head bobbing towards the guys trying to get me to notice them. First of all, like I didn’t notice them. I could reach out and touch one of them without stretching and probably touch the other guy’s knee. Second, I could barely handle my dad being my wingman. Third, we were in Italy. What were the chances we would see them again? Finally, I got my dad to stop trying to get me to notice them by acknowledging them. “This is a beautiful restaurant. Have you eaten here before? We could use some help on what to order here.” The one man that I was facing had a sweet smile and responded as sweetly, “No, this is our first time. The fog was too heavy to continue on so we stopped here hoping by the time we finished I wouldn’t mind driving in the fog that was left.” This appeased my dad and he was happy to just look at the menu for the time being. I reached out to touch my dad’s hand to get his attention. “Are you in any hurry to get out of this town?” “No, why?” He looked at me with so much concern. I loved the way my dad could be so concerned about me with just a few words said. “Oh, I just wanted to have risotto. It takes time to make a proper risotto. You can’t make it ahead of time or it is mush and gloopy. “That sounds good but I see they have grilled pork chops and that is what I am having.” “Let’s get the house white if that is okay with you.” “Hey, having any wine is okay with me. Such a treat to have wine with lunch.” I heard the guy next to me make a grunting noise. I wanted to say something but I left it alone. I was not happy that he was finding humor in a simple statement my dad made. The waitress took our order and theirs at the same time. The man facing me ordered the risotto and smiled at me. They each ordered a glass of wine while dad and I ordered a half a liter of the house white. The waitress brought us our wine and a plate of bread. I was a little surprised that nothing came with the bread. The disappointment started to seep into my thoughts when I tasted the bread. It was definitely not made in house or even today’s bread. Dad and I agreed that it was not worth the calories after our first bite. While we were waiting for our food dad slipped a box over to me. “What’s this?” “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at these,” He pushed the box closer to me. I picked up the box and hoped they were the ones I truly wanted. Yes, they were the blue sapphire earrings. I jumped out of my chair and gave my dad a hug and a kiss. “You are too good to me.” I heard a noise coming from the guy sitting next to me. They had been talking about this renovation they were doing but when I hugged dad the conversation stopped and he tsked. I wanted to ask him what his problem was but reframed myself again. Sitting this close it was hard not to have a conversation with the people sitting right next to you. I had waited tables where people were at the same table and they were farther apart than the four of us. We were planning our next destination when the food arrived. I could tell when she set down my dish, I was not going to be happy. First, our food should have taken longer to make and second it looked undercooked. I could tell the color of the rice was not right. I was glad it was a mushroom risotto so I knew the mushrooms would be cooked enough. “Honey, what is wrong?” “This doesn’t look cooked enough.” “Try it, it might be deceiving you.” I took a bite and I felt the chalkiness in my molars as I chewed. “This is awful.” I looked over to the guy who ordered risotto but he got osso buco. His looked like overcooked or yesterday’s risotto. I wasn’t going to say anything to him though it wasn’t long and he was saying something to me. “How is your risotto?” “I am afraid it isn’t very good. I am fighting the urge to send it back. How is yours?” “Well, it isn’t the best I have ever had. Well, actually it tastes blah. I don’t know if I am being too picky.” His friend piped up, “He is the pickiest person when it comes to food.” My dad had to add his two cents worth in on this conversation, “Well, my daughter is a chef and she knows food. So, I trust her opinion.” The guy next to me said, “She’s your daughter? I thought she was your wife.” Now, I knew why all the noise was coming out of him. He was judging us. What a jerk! The guy I was facing started the introductions, “Hi, I am Phillip and this is my friend Kyle. Are you two traveling around Italy or camped out around here?” “Nice to meet you. This is my daughter Tanzi and I am Edward. We are up here for a week traveling around Lake Como then we are heading south to Bologna. After my readings I thought, I might want to pop over to Florence too. My daughter gave me this present after my five-year cancer free checkup.” “Okay dad, enough. I am sure these gentlemen don’t want our history as well.”

< Back Garlic-Glazed Chicken Pizza Prep Time: 30 minutes Cook Time: 10 to 12 minutes Serves: Serves 4 to 6 as a main course, or 8 to 10 as a starter Level: easy About the Recipe This pizza is a family favorite and anyone who likes garlic will go crazy for it. I got this recipe from my brother who was my hero...not just because he gave me this recipe. It is wonderful hot or cold though I might be the only person who likes cold pizza :-) Ingredients ¼ cup sesame seeds 1 head garlic, peeled, and coarsely chopped * 2 teas crushed dried red chili peppers ½ cup soy sauce 1-½ cups rice wine vinegar * ¾ cup vegetable oil ¼ cup chopped green onions 5 Tabls honey 5 boned and skinned chicken breast halves, cut into bit sized pieces 2 cups (about 8 oz) grated Gruyere cheese 1 cup (about 4 oz) shredded mozzarella cheese Your favorite pizza dough Preparation Put the sesame seeds in a small skillet over medium heat. Toast the seeds, stirring or shaking the pan, until golden, about 4 minutes. Empty onto a plate to cool. Reserve. Combine the garlic, crushed red pepper, soy sauce, honey, and vinegar in a bowl, reserve. Heat ¼ cup of the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat and sauté chicken until opaque on all sides, about 3 minutes. Remove with slotted spoon and reserve. Pour the garlic mixture into the skillet and cook over med-high–heat, stirring frequently, until the sauce is reduced to a consistency of syrup, about 15 minutes. Return the chicken to the pan and cook, stirring constantly, until the pieces are lightly glazed, about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and reserve. Brush your dough with vegetable oil, then top with a layer of each of the cheeses and the glazed chicken, leaving a ½-inch border around the edges. Sprinkle with the green onions. Pour a little of the liquid on the pizza. Bake in Preheated oven (500) for 10 to 12 minutes. Sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds, slice and serve immediately. *You can substitute half the amount balsamic or red wine vinegar (3/4 cup) and the other half water (3/4 cup) plus provolone for the gruyere *I have used as little as ½ head but no less. You need that garlic to make the dish Previous Next

​Ellie hasn't had an easy life.  The one solace in her life is her art.  A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art.  Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence.  He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. My Daughter thinks I ruined her life…I did my best to make her life better. Written by Kimberly Caristi Ellie hasn't had an easy life. The one solace in her life is her art. A promise that she made to a dying friend has her working very hard on her art. Her life revolves around her daughter and her art and she doesn't know how to communicate well with people until she meets Lorenzo in Florence. He shows her that life can be more than her daughter and her art. I did my best…learning to live without my dad When my dad died when I was seven and my mom and I were left alone. I mean very alone. My dad’s parents pretty much pretended we didn’t exist. My mom made the excuse that since dad was their only child we just reminded them of their loss. I did get a Christmas present a couple of times then we never heard from them again. My mom was an only child, too, and her parents had died in a car accident before I was born. Her only aunt Mary sent me gifts until she passed away when I was twelve. She lived too far away to visit but we wrote letters. Aunt Mary was the sweetest aunt, she never missed calling us on our birthdays and at Christmas. We were the smallest family I knew. Did I think I had the saddest life? No, it was filled with paper and colors. I didn’t know any better. It might have helped that I was young or I was happy being just with my mom. My memory of my dad filled me with joy. He was funny and charming at the same time. My mom made sure that I didn’t forget him by telling me stories of their lives together before I came along. I wanted to be like him but at a young age I realized I was like my mom and proved it when I was in my thirties. I was quiet like my mother and I wanted to be just like her though I failed at getting some of her traits like being organized. I have gotten ahead of myself… My mom took in laundry and did typing to make money. She kept me busy by giving me paper to draw on while she worked. I didn’t mind; I loved it. My aunt Mary was delighted that I loved to draw so she would send me colored pencils, pens and better paper. A couple of times great aunt Mary sent me art books that I still have to this day. Those were the occasions when the great part of her name really personified her. Someone other than my mother took an interest in what I really loved. A couple of times she would call me, and we would talk about the book she sent. I loved those moments. It was the two art lovers in the world alone with our book. I knew she read before she gave it to me because I would find personal notes in the margins. My mom and I were devastated when we got the news that she passed. Aunt Mary was our ray of sunshine in this world and our only connection to our past. My mom’s reaction was we had work to do though she cried while she worked for several days. It was hard to get past my grief to see that my mom grieved too. She knew this lovely woman who took an interest in me from afar. My mom had grown up with Aunt Mary being there for her in person at all the important days in her life. My great aunt Mary was a tangible person who hugged her and did more for her than called her a few times a year. I did learn that we, my mom and me, grieve by getting to work and providing for your family. At first my mom loved that drawing kept me busy then she would get mad because I wasn’t doing my chores. To be honest, drawing would take me into another world where I could imagine anything. It allowed me to live in a magical place that I created. I turned my cat into a purple cat…purple was my favorite color. I would beg kids at school for their purple crayons because mine were usually down to this little, tiny piece that was the size of the piece that kids broke off the tip of their crayons. I never abused any of my crayons, pencils or pens. I would ask everyone who would bring laundry or pick up manuscripts if they had an extra pen or pencil I could have. My mom hated me asking for a handout though she never said, “Don’t ever do that again.” I thought she secretly was thankful, so she didn’t have to buy them. When I got to middle school my art teacher saw something in my drawings and tried to teach me some techniques that I still used in some of my art. Ms. Inmann was in the wrong place; she should have been a college professor. She couldn’t draw or paint very well because she had shaky hands. Still, she taught me to draw with so much finesse that I started to sell my drawings. My mom said I had to start making money to help pay for my addiction of wanting all these pencils and paper. I started babysitting and drawing the kids I watched. I wanted to get down drawing faces. When the parents came home and saw the drawings I would be working on at their kitchen table, they would ask for them. I would tell them that I was going to use the back because I didn’t have much money for paper, then they would offer to buy them. I wasn’t totally lying; I would have used the back. The better I got the more I could ask for my portrait work. I would ask Ms. Inmann how much I should sell them for. Soon I was making more selling my drawings than babysitting. That snowballed into me being called by friends and families of my babysitting clients asking me to draw their child, parents or a beloved pet. When I got into high school I got into paints. I had another good art teacher, Mrs. Plank. She was a beautiful woman inside and out who was always covered in paint. I wanted to be just like her. When I first met her in ninth grade, she told me that I should be a model not an artist. She told me that I could make a lot of money as a model. A couple of weeks after I started her class Mrs. Plank talked my mom into letting her take me to a couple of modeling agencies. No one asked Elli if that was what she wanted. No one even thought to figure out if this was something Elli could handle. No one thought if this was in Elli’s best interest. After all the interviews I got asked to be added to two of the three agencies that we visited. I thought the one that declined me was the only one that saw it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t the one actively trying to get into modeling. One month every weekend I went to modeling school to learn how to walk. Who knew you had to learn to walk a certain way? I didn’t. I learned great posture though my teacher said I was a natural at holding my body correctly, even though I was tall for a girl and had a nice figure for a fourteen-year-old. I learned to put on makeup that made me look older. I learned how to take care of my thick massive curly red hair. I had tried to cut it one summer when I was in second grade. My mom thought it was because I was upset that my dad had just died, and I was acting out. I just thought it was because I had fallen asleep with gum in my mouth, and I didn’t want to get in trouble for it, so I cut my hair. I had to go see the school counselor for the rest of the year and play with puppets. I suffered through modeling for almost a year. I hated it. I was thankful that Mrs. Plank noticed that modeling was not my passion. Finally, Mrs. Plank really saw that I was better and more passionate about my art than I was about modeling. When she would ask me how my modeling was going, she didn’t see me excited. She thought a young girl asked to model should be floating on cloud nine. On the other hand, when I talked about my art, I was so excited and happy she realized my true passion. One spring day she took me aside in the classroom. “Elli, you need to speak up for yourself. You have talent in front of the camera though your art supersedes it by leaps and bounds. If you wanted to, you could earn more money as a model for a while then you can paint for the rest of your life.” “I don’t want to do that,” I don’t know where I got the nerve to tell her what I was feeling. She agreed with me after a long discussion, “I guess modeling is not for you. Let’s work on your art. I will talk to your mom.” I was nervous because I knew my mom loved the money and the clothes I got to keep. I had never hugged a teacher before or since but that day I just squeezed Mrs. Plank. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will do whatever you want me to do in the classroom. I will clean your paint brushes, scrub the floor, sharpen the pencils. Whatever you want.” “Okay Elli you might regret your offer,” she smiled at me. I didn’t know if it was the smile or knowing I was not going to have to model anymore that made me feel wonderful. I didn’t care because I could just work on my art. It wasn’t long and Mrs. Plank came over to our house and had a lengthy conversation with my mom. I sat in the hallway trying to hear their discussion. Both of them were soft-spoken like me and all I heard was that Mrs. Plank thought I should give up modeling. They had to talk about more than me because they started to talk on the phone in the evenings every once in a while. My mom called me in the family room after Mrs. Plank left. It was awkward at first, my mom kept twisting a napkin in her hands then she opened up to me. She knew I wasn’t really happy doing modeling. She apologized for not telling me to quit earlier. Come to find out she thought I would fall in love with it soon because what young women didn’t like clothes and attention. She was thankful that I really never got into wearing nice clothes. Our relationship got closer that day because we started to talk about everything. She stopped worrying that she wasn’t providing all the best clothes that most teenagers wanted, and I was willing to talk openly about what I was feeling and thinking. I promptly stopped doing everything I learned in modeling school except keeping my shoulders back. Martha, my modeling coach, said it was good for you whether you were a model or not. She said I would thank her for this when I got older. I learned that if I don't keep a good posture when I draw or paint my back would hurt. When I wanted to dress up for prom and go out on a date, I did use some of the makeup skills I learned. Well, when Mrs. Plank started to just teach me how to paint it opened a whole new world for me. I loved it. Mrs. Plank was thrilled that I took to painting so fast. Freshman year we were learning how to draw with pencils, chalk, charcoal, pastels and at the end of the year we started watercolor. I was ahead of all my freshman class, but Mrs. Plank couldn’t let me advance. I just worked on better techniques. Painting with watercolors was okay but in our sophomore year we got to move into acrylic and oil paints. I was in heaven. We learned all kinds of ways to paint from abstract to impressionism to realism to pointillism and the list went on. Like I said, Mrs. Plank was a great teacher. Mrs. Plank was a champion of mine, one of the things she did for me was enter my paintings into competitions. We were always shipping this piece or that piece to somewhere in the states and a couple around the world. I won enough money to buy me canvas, new paints and good brushes plus lots of turpentine. My mom was not as impressed with the painting money coming in, it wasn’t like the modeling benefits. She was thrilled I was happier. She was always in my corner telling me how proud she was of me. The only thing that drove her crazy was I never got the hang of watching the clock. She lived by the clock. Her customers expected their clothes or papers to be ready on time. As all mothers did, she wished for me to have a normal teenage life. My mom couldn’t get past the fact that I didn’t want to go out on dates more often that I was more excited by my love of art. I read everything I could on the subject and tried to copy the best artists, trying to figure out their techniques. My English teachers commented that they wished I would find something else to write about or do a book report on. I guess it was a rare subject for them to not have read the books their students wrote about. I thought they got bored with the subject too. Mrs. Plank told me not to listen to them. She was proud that I could write as well as paint. My senior year my mom was getting nervous because I kept getting information about art schools from all over the country. I thought she was worried I was going to leave her. I kept telling her I wouldn’t leave her and that I must be getting these applications because of all my art competitions. I didn’t ask for one of them. Secretly, I thought it would be nice to get out of Missouri, but I couldn’t go without her. She was my everything. I had no one else. She worked so hard to keep us afloat. After my dad’s death things were so hard on us. I remember rubbing her shoulders as she typed. I could feel the tightness in her muscles. I did lug in the laundry detergent and the spray starch from the car. Once in a while I would throw things into the dryer for her if I weren’t covered in paint and she didn’t have to worry about stains. Anytime I earned a penny I handed it over to my mom. She usually handed it back when I needed new brushes though. She would laugh at me because of how hard it was for me to ask for money. “You know you have earned this money. Why all the anxs?” Mom said, shaking her head. “Because I am not sure we have the money at this time for the brushes.” “Silly bean, you are the reason that I am not doing as much as I did. We are a team, remember?” She put her forehead on mine. “Yes, a team.” Every once in a while I would forget and fidget trying to ask for money for paint or brushes. I did my best…to stay close to my mom I applied and got accepted to Central Missouri State University. My mom was so thrilled it wasn’t that far from home. Just before school started my mom decided to move to Warrensburg with me. I was a little surprised…well, really surprised. She thought she could get more work in a college town. We packed up our little house into a fifteen-foot moving van and had room to spare. Mrs. Plank had helped me sell all of my paintings in a show that a friend of hers had for me in her Kansas City Art Gallery. I was so nervous standing around trying to be polite to all the people who wanted to buy this up-and-coming artist’s artwork. That show paid for the moving van and the first and last month’s rent for my mom’s little house plus gave us a little nest egg. I wanted to live in the dorm and my mom was fine with that, but I was worried about having enough room in my dorm for my paintings. I knew I had my mom’s house to use if I needed the room. To help pay my bills I got a work-study job in the library. It was my first job that I got paid weekly. This was a first for me. My problem was my issue with time. I was constantly late. My boss was going to fire me after my first month, but he soon realized that I would work later than I was scheduled by way more than I was late. He finally agreed that I would work when I could. I liked working in the library because I met a bunch of people. I would never say I was shy because I could talk to anyone, but I liked it better when I was approached instead of the other way around. I was doing better not shutting people totally out of my life. I knew I had issues after my dad died getting close to people. It was very hard on me and Mom. We really clung to each other. I learned at an early age that a person you loved could be gone in a flash. I never went to bed without saying I love you to my mom and giving her a hug. Even when I was upset with how she was dealing with my dad’s death I still hugged her and said, “I love you.” I showed my friends that I cared for them every day by ending our time together with a hug. I really never had a boyfriend in high school because I couldn’t devote that much time to them. I would rather go out with my friends. I didn’t care if they had boyfriends because that just gave me more time to paint when they got preoccupied by their relationships. I used painting as my way of keeping people at a distance, never really letting them get too close to me because I knew friendship was always iffy. When my dad died, I lost several of my friends because they couldn’t handle that he was gone and how sad I was. My dad was the life of the party, and all my friends loved my dad. He always made them laugh and feel good about themselves. I learned all about it in my psychology class in my junior year in high school. I self-analyzed myself and my mom. I came to terms with my dad’s death that year, but it took me a couple of years to let people get really close to me. That was when I met Russ. Russ was a very good-looking young man with great manners and knew how to make me feel special. He would wait for me to get off work and walk me back to my dorm. He would meet me in the cafeteria and carry my tray of food over to his table where his food was getting cold. We would sit with his friends who became my friends. He bought me new paint brushes for every occasion. My sophomore year my work study was in the first-year art room. My teacher asked specifically for me. Ms. Adams saw my work in Kansas City and was excited when she saw my name on her class list. She hoped I was one-in-the-same Elli Wright. After my first drawing she knew I had to be the same artist she saw in her favorite gallery. Raven became more than just a teacher in my sophomore year. She became my mentor and advisor but most of all a friend. Raven had won several awards for her art. She was known for her paintings of people in Harlem, where she was from. I asked her once why she moved from New York to a small town in Missouri. She had followed her heart. He was the assistant baseball coach. Sometimes she wonders if she did the right thing because half of the year, she was a baseball widow. She hardly saw him. I went to some of the games with her and both of us talked more about art than watching the game. Russ came a few times and asked if we even knew what was going on. We said together “No.” Russ didn’t know anything about art. He didn’t understand why I had to draw so many things over and over. Why the painting I was working on would change from one day to the next. He would comment that he liked the yellow flowers and why did I make them purple. After a few months he stopped asking why I changed things. My work kept getting noticed by other professors. The department secretary called me Star instead of Elli. I finally told her one day, “I am sorry that I haven’t corrected you Ms. Barnes. My name is Elli.” She laughed, “I know, I call you star because you are the star of the department.” I must’ve turned as red as my hair. “Oh,” was all I said. I was so embarrassed. I did feel a little pride that someone thought I was a star of the department. My paintings were going to more competitions. I got to travel all around the United States, Canada, a couple times to Europe and once to Hong Kong. I was never so nervous in my life. Raven said if I really wanted to be an artist I was going to have to learn to talk to people and put myself out there so people would get to know me. I never asked to put my paintings into competitions. My professors were the ones to tell me I had to do this or that. I kind of liked it that way. Raven kept telling me I was falling into being a real artist instead of making myself an artist. She would get so mad at me. “You are not pursuing your art. You are letting it happen.” “I don’t know what you mean. I am taking all the classes I can. Trying everything to see what I want to do.” “If you want to get known you have to enter competition after competition. Put yourself out there and do juried competitions. Make business cards and a website for heaven’s sake. You can paint all you want but if you want to make a living you have to sell, sell, sell. One of those sells, is yourself. You have to let people know about you.” Raven was almost yelling at me. She was an intense woman for sure. “I enter competitions,” I said with conviction. “Only when one of us comes to you and says do this.” “Well, I do it. Don’t I?” “You need to do the research. Get on a computer and find things for you to enter.” “You know I hate computers.” “Well, then you are just going to be one of those local artists that could have made it big.” She gave me one of those looks that drove me crazy. “Don’t look at me that way. Do you really think I can make it big?” Raven actually flicked me on my forehead. “Why in the hell do you think everyone is telling you to enter all these competitions? Get it through that thick skull of yours,” she said with great exasperation. “You could be the next Picasso, Pollock, O’Keefe or Thomas Hart Benton if you wanted it badly enough. You just have to go for it. They are not going to hand you this accolade without you putting yourself out there. You have the work ethic; now show people you are worth it.” That speech came at a time when I was letting Russ get into what I called my inner circle. So far, my mom was the only one I let in that circle. I started to let myself really love him. I had only one example of what love was and that was my parents. My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She moved away from her home. She had started college when she met my dad but when he was offered a job in Kansas City, he took it. They were married by the justice of the peace near my mom’s parents. They were their witnesses. That was probably why my dad’s family didn’t want anything to do with us. I was totally guessing this because my mom really didn’t want to talk about them. She would tell me all about my dad though. How wonderful he was, how good-looking he was and that I had his looks but way prettier. She always told me how pretty I was and would touch my face then pull back my hair. He was smart too. When I introduced Russ to her, she thought Russ reminded her of my dad. I thought about what Raven said for a couple of days. I decided I would do what she was doing. I was going to teach art and do art on the side. That way, I would be able to have Russ and my art…I thought. At the end of my junior year and the night before Russ graduated, he asked me to marry him. I was so surprised I felt like I was in love, so I said yes, especially since my mom really liked him. She knew he would make order in my life. That was the only thing I didn’t understand: why everyone got so frustrated with me. I did my best to keep everyone happy. I worked late at night when I was not needed. I lost sleep because they wanted me to be there for them. Why couldn’t they accept that when I was having a show, I needed to finish what I had started. I had lost all my friends because I didn’t have time for them. I only made time for Russ and my mom. So, what if I was a little late and I had paint all over myself. Russ had been offered a job in Kansas City at a financial firm doing budget analyst stuff. He tried to explain it to me, but he said he could see my eyes glazing over. He just wanted me to be there for all the social events because he wanted to show off his beautiful bride to be. I tried to be there for everything but several of my paintings had won some competitions and I had to travel with them. If I had to pay for all my travels I wouldn’t have gone. My professors were nice enough to not dock me for missing my classes. To be honest they let me, and some other students work at our own pace. A couple demanded things to be done on a certain date, but the rest said as long as they were done by the end of the semester it was okay if I missed classes here and there. My senior year I took my first sculpting class. I had a new love. You could give me anything and I could make it into something. I literally went out to the dump to find things to weld together. I made friends with a woman named Emma in my sculpting class. We would dig through the trash at school, or we went to junk yards together to find things. Some Saturdays we would go to garage sales at the end of the day to see what people wanted to donate to our art class. Emma and I became inseparable especially since Russ was living close to work. He was saving for our house; he would tell me. I was thrilled I had more time to get more work done. Emma was now in my inner circle. I think she was in my heart before I even knew it. She was so full of life that I was sucked into her inner circle too. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Our friendship was something very special. She got me and I her. My mom would cook for Emma and me on Saturdays and Sundays and sometimes during the week she would call us in the afternoon to see if we wanted to come over for dessert or breakfast for dinner. We were thrilled when we would come over and find a cool piece of trash, she found on the side of the road thinking we could do something with it. Emma was an expert welder if you ever met one. She had real skills when it came to welding. Her favorite place to go was car junk yards. She would climb all over things to get to something she just knew was there. We were both working on our Senior Show our last semester. Hers were all sculptures while I had paintings, one sculpture and chalk drawings in mine. Emma went out late one evening when I was too busy to go with her and when she didn’t show up around midnight, I knew something was wrong. There were a couple of guys working in the welding room and I asked them if they would go with me to the junkyard to see if we could find Emma. When we pulled up, we saw Emma’s car, so she had to be there. Of course, the gate was locked, which didn’t stop Josh and Tony from crawling over the fence. I called the number on the gate to see if they knew anything. No, they hadn’t seen her come in or leave. That was when I got scared. I called the police next. While I was telling them the situation Josh yelled for me to call an ambulance and a tow truck because a car was on Emma. Well, that changed how the police were talking to me. Everything seemed to be in slow motion or so fast I couldn’t keep up with what was going on. I had climbed over the fence before the police, ambulance and fire department got there. I was talking to Emma trying to keep her calm while I was a nervous wreck. I rode with her to the hospital, and I watched as the EMTs, then the doctors, worked on her. I was ushered out to the waiting room. I had never been so scared in my life. Josh and Tony came to the hospital and sat with me. We four had worked together all year and helped each other when someone needed a third or fourth hand. When the doctors were getting ready to take Emma to surgery to try to stop the bleeding they came out and told us that she wanted to talk to me. I just knew that meant they weren’t sure if Emma would survive. The guys looked at me and I knew they were thinking the same thing. I definitely wanted to go to her though it was just that my feet were glued to the floor. I was able to free my right foot then my left and it was the most difficult walk I had ever taken. It was Emma that did all the talking. She wanted me to know that she loved me more than her sisters put together, which was a lot. I was to tell her parents that she was sorry for taking one too many chances. She wanted me to sell all of her art and give the money to her parents. They didn’t need her art to sit around and collect dust, they needed a new car and to pay off her bills. She had my wedding present hiding under her mattress. It was supposed to be my something new. It was a locket, and she already had a picture of my mom and Russ in it. I listened as she told me all these things as tears ran down my cheeks. It was so hard for her to talk but she wanted to tell me, no she had to tell me all these things. I finally stopped her when I saw the nurse come in. “Emma, my sweet Emma, I will be waiting right here for you. You, my sweet thing, will be okay. You have to be okay. We have a lot of art to make together.” The nurse started to interrupt. “I love you, Emma.” It was the last thing I said to her. She didn’t make it through the surgery. I was devastated. My mom came to the hospital to pick me up. I didn’t call her, Tony did. I was a basket case. I curled up on my bed at my mom’s house and cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t go back to school. Russ drove to Warrensburg the next day when he called my mom to find out why I wasn’t calling him back. He knew that Emma was very important to me. I wouldn’t talk to Russ; I didn’t want to see him. I thought I should call off the wedding. I couldn’t get married in a month. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, and I was still covered in paint. I only ate a couple bits of food that my mom made me eat. I had my back to the door when I heard a knock, then the door opened. “I said, I don’t want to see anyone. Please go away.” I said in the saddest voice I have ever heard come out of my mouth. “I don’t care what you want.” It was Raven. “Get your sorry ass out of bed and into the shower now.” I turned and looked at this very mad woman. “You heard me, get your butt out of bed now.” “I can’t.” “Yes, you can, and you will. Emma’s parents are here, and they need to talk to you. I can smell you coming down the hall, so get your butt into gear and get in the shower.” “I can’t talk to them. I am the reason their daughter isn’t here.” “You pushed the car onto her?” Why was she talking to me like that? I just lost my best friend, my sister. “I should have gone with her to the junkyard. If I had she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” I couldn’t believe I was crying again. How much water could come out of you before you shriveled up and died? “No, you shouldn’t have. You had your own stuff to get done. Emma took a chance to find something she thought she just had to have. She had enough pieces finished for her project; she just wanted to do more. She made the unwise decision to climb on something not safe.” “But.” “No buts. Shit happens. We don’t always get to choose how things go down. Like right now. I have two parents waiting to talk to you. Their hearts are broken. It is a terrible thing to bury a child. The least you can do is talk to them.” I got up off the bed and started to walk past her. She grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. Oh, how I needed that hug. Finally, she said, “And brush those pearly whites while you are in there,” as she pushed me off of her. I couldn’t help it. I blew out my breath into her face and laughed. She play swatted my behind as I walked past her. Russ was in the living room when I came out. He came rushing towards me and gave me another great hug. “Elli, I am so sorry.” “Please, not now Russ. I just got my crying under control, and I am right on the brink of crying again. I have to go see Emma’s parents.” “I know. I can take you.” “That would be great.” “You should tell them that we will name our daughter after Emma.” That promise made me laugh, “So you think we will have a daughter?” “We have to. It would be a shame to waste all your beautiful genes on a boy. I figured that we would have a couple of each.” I should have called him. He had brightened my mood. “We never talked about having children or how many we would have. Four children means a lot of diapers and midnight feedings. Are you sure that is the correct number?” “We can have as many as you want. I have a stellar job, and I know I will be promoted sooner than I thought I would. My boss loves me.” He was very proud of himself. “I would love a large family. I think I missed out on being an only child.” “You think you missed out on not getting to sit where you wanted to in the car, the living room or kitchen table? You missed out having fights over what to watch on tv?” I stopped him. “Okay, I get it.” Seeing Emma’s parents was hard. I told them what Emma told me to tell them. It broke my heart to see them cry. Russ ended up coming in with me and I was glad he did. He comforted me then told me to go comfort Emma’s parents. I didn’t know if I would have the wherewithal to do that. They gave me the locket that Emma had made for me. It was beautiful. She didn’t tell me she made it. Just looking at it I could tell. Raven was there as well as Dr. Mullens, the head of the department. It was a difficult meeting, and I was glad Raven made me do it. When Emma’s parents left Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I was so nervous. I had never been called into a principal’s office before, and that was what it felt like when Dr. Mullens called me into his office. I looked at Russ and he said he would be by the car when I was finished. Dr. Mullens sat in his chair and motioned for me to sit in the chair across from him. My hands were all sweaty and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. Since the chair I was sitting in was a fabric chair I started to rub it like I was wanting to know what the fabric was made from doing so I dried my hands. “Ms. Wright, I don’t know if you are aware that Mr. Pembrook will be taking a leave of absence to work on his PhD. We were wondering if you would be willing to take his place while he was gone. He teaches first year art students mainly and art appreciation which is a core class. You have shown great promise while you were here. Pembrook and Adams think you are an excellent choice to fill in while he is away. If we can get another line when he gets back, we can have you apply for the job, but it will have to be a national search. What do you think? Wait, don’t answer me now. Think about it while you are finishing up for your senior show. I will expect an answer by the end of next week.” “Will I be paid?” He chuckled, “Yes, you will be paid standard adjunct faculty pay. Though you will have all the studios open to you for your own work plus some of the standard supplies.” “I don’t have to think about it. This will give me the experience I want to see if I would be any good at teaching. I know I should have figured out what I wanted to do besides painting all day. Thank you for giving me a chance.” “Come in next week and I will have a contract ready for you.” “Thanks again, Dr. Mullens.” “Thank you, Ms. Wright.” As soon as I walked out of the main office Raven met me with a shove. “I told you to stop letting things happen for you. You took the job without thinking about it didn’t you?” “Well, yes.” I didn’t get a chance to elaborate. “When will you take charge of your life? Well, I am glad you are sticking around so I might beat some sense into you.” She gave me a hug then played smacked me on the back of the head. “Your split personality is showing through.” I gave Raven a shove in the shoulder. “I have to go tell Russ.” I did my best…I got a teaching job Russ was pleased that I came out smiling. He wasn’t sure about me taking the job though. “Where are we going to live? I thought we would get a condo near my work until we started a family in a couple of years.” “Russ, didn’t you think I would want a job?” “I make enough money for us to live on. I just thought you would want to paint for a while until the children come.” “Seriously, you thought I would give up my work to have children?” I couldn’t believe he thought I would do that. “I just thought they would take up so much time that you would want to be there for them. I know you can go back to work when they are older.” “What century are you from? What about you giving up your job to take care of all these children you want?” “Don’t get mad. I just thought that is what you would want to do. We can play it by ear.” I looked at him and wondered if he really knew me. “You do know that my art is not a hobby. Don’t you?” I stared at him and wondered if he understood me. “Hey, who set up your website? Who is keeping it up to date? Who replies to the comments? You haven’t even learned to upload pictures to it. I am being supportive here.” He had turned the table on me, it was his turn to be upset with me. I gently touched his shoulder and leaned into him and kissed him softly on the lips. “You do all this for me. Do you think we are ready to get married? We hadn’t even talked about how many children we wanted. What else have we not talked about?” “Well, I know I am ready. Do you have second thoughts about us? Has Emma’s death changed things for you?” I cringed when he said her name. Maybe it had woken up my dreams of who I really wanted to be. Her words and her parents’ words came flooding back to me. ‘You are an amazing artist. Honor Emma by being the best you can be.’ He was searching my eyes with so much concern. “Don’t you love me? I know I love you.” “Of course, I love you.” “Then it is settled. We are getting married in less than a month.” Russ kissed me and gave me a warm embrace. I went home and painted a sign ‘Be the best you can be.’ I would keep the sign forever as a memory of this time in my life. My Senior Show was a success, as was Emma’s. Everyone chipped in on their sales to be able to send Emma’s parents $100,000. I got back the nicest letter of appreciation from them. They were giving a scholarship to any student going into art at her high school. With all the money left over after paying her bills, they were able to buy a nice used car. I saw where Emma got her huge heart from. I reached over to touch my sign. “Emma, thank you for being my friend. I promise you I will work my butt off to be the best artist I can be.” I had made enough money to pay for my part of the wedding. When Russ asked me to marry him, I told him that I didn’t want a big wedding. My mom didn’t have any money. She still took in laundry and typed up theses. She indeed had more work living here next to a university. He was okay with a small wedding and said he would talk to his parents about paying for the reception. I didn’t think they were thrilled with the idea. Since he was the only boy in the family, they thought they would get one wedding break. After my show I was able to give them some money. Well, I tried to give them money, but Russ’s dad wouldn’t hear of it. He told me to put that money to good use like more paints, brushes and canvases. Mrs. Shaw didn’t seem happy about it. She did add that some furniture would be nice too. I thanked them for their support. Mr. Shaw came over and gave me a big hug. I knew it was going to be difficult to win over Mrs. Shaw, but Mr. Shaw was another story. He was one of my biggest fans. Since Emma was gone, I had my mom stand up for me. She was taken aback when I asked her to be my maid of honor. “Are you sure Elli? You can ask one of your other friends. I am an old lady.” “Mom, you aren’t that old. You have always been there for me. Who better to stand up for me at my wedding?” I reached over the kitchen table to grab her hand. “Mom, I want us to walk up together too. Come, I don’t think you want to wear Emma’s dress, so we need to pick you out something beautiful to wear on my special day.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a daughter like you.” “I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a mother like you.” Our wedding was small, and we got married in Russ’s church to make his mom happy. My mom and I didn’t go to church after my dad died so I was fine with it. I really liked the minister who performed the wedding. He had everyone get out of the pews and encircle us as he performed the wedding. It made it feel so special. After the wedding ceremony we walked across the street to the church hall. We had a lovely dinner and the best wedding cake I have ever tasted. I hoped there would be leftovers. My hopes were dashed because everyone else thought the cake was as good as I did. Russ didn’t have time to go on a honeymoon so we went to the nicest hotel we could handle paying for. I just couldn’t justify paying several hundred dollars for one night in a hotel. We compromised on a hundred and fifty. I had never paid that much for a hotel and if my mother knew how much it was, she would have gone crazy ranting on how much we could have bought at the grocery store for that much money. When I paid almost that much on the dress she wore in the wedding, she threw a fit until I said I guess I will not get married then. I wished I could say our first few months of married life were wonderful times, but they were not. We had to get used to each other’s habits. I felt like I was doing a better job of adjusting than Russ. I knew he liked things a certain way, but I thought that would change when we got married. Aren’t you supposed to think of the other person when you get married? We had decided to live halfway between our jobs. Well, when it came time to find a place to live the couple of places in Lone Jack were not up to Russ’s standards. We settled on a place in Lee’s Summit. Russ wasn’t really happy about it, and he made sure I knew it every time he got stuck in traffic. I tried to tell him that I had to drive farther so stop complaining. When classes started up in the fall, I would stay with my mom a couple of times a week. I started keeping more clothes there than I did at our apartment. Russ hated that I was always covered in paint so I would go to my mom’s house to shower and change before going home. Then he wasn’t thrilled that I spent so much time at my mom’s house. He thought it looked wrong. “I work late, I have to shower before I come home and then I have over a half hour drive to get here. On days when I teach the next morning it gives me less than six hours of sleep. We could live in Warrensburg if you want me home every night.” Well, that shut him up for a little while. Our communication skills left something to be desired. I would swear I told him something and he would yell that he told me something. Russ started somewhat calmly then it crescendoed into an ear-splitting scream, “You never listen to me when I talk. You are always thinking about the next thing you are going to paint or what you are going to be teaching the next day.” I said through gritted teeth, “Why can’t you understand that I have never taught before! This is using a different part of my brain. I am exhausted driving back and forth, teaching four classes and I have to produce art to stay active. You are the one who wants to live in an apartment that has no natural light. We live in a cave. I have no room to paint in this place even if there was light. I told you that, then you went and signed the contract without me.” My last sentence must have gotten to him because he changed his tactics. He almost sounded like the loving husband I thought I married, “I have to drive too. I work hard all day. I would like to come home to my wife and have a nice dinner.” Yes, he worked all day at a desk. Oh, he played racquetball three days a week during his lunch hour with friends. Who gets an hour and a half for lunch? He worked late almost every day, so he didn’t have to deal with the traffic. I would like to come home from work to a husband and a nice dinner too. I didn’t know who he thought he married. I had never made dinner for him before. I really didn’t cook. I had never had to cook before. My mom would cook between doing laundry and typing to use another set of muscles, she would say. She did give me her favorite cookbook when I got married and wished me luck. Why did everyone expect me to change when I got married? Was that what I was supposed to do? I talked to Raven about my situation. She said marriage was a give and take situation. If no one gives and always takes, marriage becomes a losing battle. Okay, I decided that I would try to have dinner on the table on Fridays and Saturdays, and we would go to my mom’s house on Sunday. I was happy with myself that I actually accomplished my plan. That worked for a while. Mom made enough for Russ to take some leftovers home for a couple of nights that I wasn’t there. Russ liked my mom’s cooking so that helped too. Two years went by in a flash. I was getting known around the United States as an up-and-coming American artist who could paint in many styles. Usually, an artist picked one way of painting, but I loved to change how I painted. Dr. Mullens had several talks with me about picking one style or technique of painting many times. He thought one way would be best for my career as an artist. I was thrilled that he thought I could have a career as an artist but I just couldn’t pick one. It was what drove Raven mad many times too, though Dr. Mullens never got mad or yelled at me. Raven did. I was making almost as much money selling one of my paintings as I was for teaching one of my classes. Some of my sculptures would bring in a pretty penny too. I didn’t see what was wrong with what I was doing. Dr. Mullens called me into his office one spring day. “Ms. Wright.” “I’m sorry Dr. Mullens, I did change my name to Elli Shaw,” I said with some apprehension. “Don’t you sign your paintings, Wright?” Russ wasn’t happy that I signed my paintings Wright, so I changed to Shaw. He made a big deal with it on my website that I was now Elli Shaw. He sent out flyers to all the galleries that had my paintings to let them know that I was now a Shaw. “Sir, I just changed a couple of months ago to signing Shaw. It was easier to hide the smaller name.” I felt I had to give a reason why I changed besides that my husband wanted me to use his name. “Why do you hide your name anyway?” “I hate to distract from the painting.” “Don’t you want to be known?” The furrowed brow was telling. I needed to stop hiding behind my paintings. “Yes sir.” I gave a huge sign more than I intended because I knew what was coming. “Then sign them with a flourish Ms. Wright.” Why did everyone know what was best for me? I was doing pretty good here. “Your contract is ending soon. Dr. Pembrook is coming back in the fall. I am sad to say I didn’t get another line to hire another teacher. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind teaching a couple of classes still as an adjunct. You can use the studios still,” he added like it was a selling point. It was a selling point. I didn’t have anywhere else to paint or do my sculpting. “Yes, I would like that.” Raven wasn’t pleased with me again. I disappointed Raven more than Russ, I thought. I wanted my marriage to work but Raven thought I should either paint full-time or teach full-time. My evaluations from students were some of the highest in our department. Apparently, I had not pissed off any of my students. That was my assumption why I had a high ranking in the department when it came to evaluations. I thought Raven was a great teacher. I haven’t had a bad art teacher, and everyone has been so supportive. I had avoided the teachers that I heard weren’t that great. I knew of professors who shouldn’t be teaching. I had some of those in other departments. I had just been lucky, I guess. I came home one August day and actually made dinner. It was a weekday so this would be a surprise for Russ. Well, he surprised me. He was so excited that I had the table set, I was not covered in paint, dinner was ready, and it was a weekday. He came running at me with the biggest smile and swung me around ending in a passionate kiss. He pulled back from me, “Do we have time for some action in the bedroom before dinner?” I laughed, “I should surprise you more often. I think so.” He picked me up and carried me to bed. Russ was laying on his back and panting. “What a great way to end a perfect day!” “I’m guessing you don’t have much hope for dinner,” I looked over at him. “No, no I trust dinner will be wonderful. I have great news.” I turned on my side resting my head on my hand. “I have been promoted. I start in a couple of weeks. They told me to take a vacation before I start because I won’t have time for a while. You aren’t teaching right now, it's perfect.” “I guess I can finish my work when we get back. Where do you want to go? How about…” I was interrupted. “I have the perfect place: Destin, Florida. We used to go down there when I was a kid.” “I was thinking New Orleans, there is so much to see there.” “I want to relax because I have to hit the ground running when I get back. I want to lie on the beach and chill.” “Okay,” I said with disappointment. I really hated his idea, but he seemed so happy about it. We drove down on the weekend and found a cheap hotel near the beach. We did have fun, and I had time to prep for my classes in the fall. Russ couldn’t believe I still used a legal-size pad of paper to plan my classes. I love how they come in different colors so I can have one color for each class. He said we could afford a computer for me, but I said I was fine with my paper and pen. I had forgotten my birth control pills but it wasn’t the first time I had done that, so we weren’t concerned. We should have been concerned. We had the distraction of being so busy when we got home, we didn’t have time to think about each other, just our own work. I went to stay with my mom for the week and he put in tons of hours at the office. He had to work over the weekend, so I was free to stay another week with my mom. It was a little bit of a misnomer saying I spent the week with my mom. I might see her in the morning. Often, she tried to make breakfast for me though I tried to pass on it until I got a pouty face. That was when I knew I was going to have to have breakfast with her if not today, definitely tomorrow. For fall break I asked Russ if he wanted to go to Oktoberfest in Hermann for a quick getaway. We needed to reconnect. It was all set. I went home that Friday and got out our suitcases and started to pack. I came across my old pill container in the bathroom and thought, damn I hadn’t been taking my pills. I thought about it for a moment and realized that we had only had sex a couple times in the last two months. This was not good on many levels. Aren’t young married couples supposed to have sex all the time? All of a sudden, a huge light bulb went off over my head. Our life was so busy the first couple of months we got back that I didn’t even notice that I had missed my period not once but twice. I dropped everything and ran to the closest store and hoped that I would beat Russ home. I didn’t want to have him see what I was about to do…take a pregnancy test. I sat there staring at the stick. How were we going to take care of a baby when we barely took care of ourselves? Our house was a disaster area. I was hardly home so most of the mess was Russ’s, though he expected me to clean it up. Well, he had another thing coming if he thought I was going to pick up after him. We were both so busy working on our careers that we barely talked anymore. How were we going to do this? I stopped asking questions I couldn’t answer and just stared at the stick. Russ came home all excited and ready to go on our mini vacation. He found me sitting on the couch with the stick lying on a napkin on the coffee table. I was tired of holding it. I thought for a moment if I ignored it, would the whole thing disappear? I wanted to have children but not yet. I thought maybe when I was thirty and was well established. “Do you have all my stuff packed too?” he said as he walked past me into the bedroom. “Elli, I thought you wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. Why is everything just lying on our bed?” He came back in and looked at me. Well, he could at least see that I was upset. He rushed over to me, “Elli, what is it? Your Mom or one of my parents?” I looked him in the eyes then I looked at the coffee table. “What’s this?” I could see the realization cross his face. He got the biggest smile on his face. He grabbed me and kissed me all over. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement. We made love right there on the couch. It was the first time we had done it someplace other than the bed. Russ probably thought the bed was covered in clothes, so this was the neatest place to do it. He was good though I have no references, but he was nothing like what I saw in the movies or on tv. “I take it you are happy that we are having a baby?” “More than you know, aren’t you?” “I just wonder how we are going to do this. We barely see each other now. How are we going to take care of a baby and when will we see it?” “Don’t be silly. We will make time. You don’t have to teach anymore. Don’t look at me that way. I didn’t say you had to give up painting. Instead of going to Hermann, why don’t we start looking at houses? We can get a house where you can paint all you want.” “I can just paint when the baby doesn’t need me, is that it?” “No, we can work something out.” I had a bad feeling that Russ’s ideal world wasn’t a realistic one. I went along with it because I wanted it to be perfect. We started looking at houses in the morning, then the afternoon and all-day Sunday. Finally, we talked to a realtor that we both liked at one of the open houses. We gave her our criteria of what we wanted in a house. We didn’t feel we had to get out of the apartment right away since we still had a lease until May. For the first couple of months, we saw a ton of homes that didn’t fit either what Russ wanted or what I needed. Then she would call us every once in a while, when something new came on the market. One day in March, Russ called me to tell me that he had just bought a house in Liberty. “Russ! How could you do that? I haven’t even seen it!” We haven’t even looked at homes in Liberty. It was too far away from Warrensburg. “Don’t get mad. I think you will love it. It is such a hot market there that I was afraid we would lose it.” “Why didn’t you call me to come look at it?” “I knew you had class and would want to wait. Cheryl called me this morning and said she just did a walk through with the realtors and knew that we would love it. You can see it this weekend. I promise you; you are going to love it. Wait until you see the kitchen, it is beautiful.” “Like I love to cook!? What about the light? Where will I paint?” I was so frustrated. “There is a three-car garage that has room for you to paint.” “Is there heat in there? How about air-conditioning for the summer?” “We can get a space heater, and you can open the garage door in the summer.” Great! I can sweat my pants off in the summer and freeze to death in the winter. “Is there any light in there?” “Of course, there is light in there.” “Russ, you know what I mean. Am I going to get enough natural light to paint by?” “I think so.” He wasn’t sure, I could tell. Why did he do this? “The best thing is we don’t have to use your money to afford it. We can just do it on my salary. I hear the silence on your end. This makes it so you don’t have to worry about painting after the baby comes for as long as you want.” I told myself over and over you have to give and take to make a marriage work. My pregnancy had been more than I could have asked for. I had very little morning sickness and I was lucky I was carrying all the weight in front like a little basketball. I had a couple of months to go, and I was crossing my fingers that the delivery was as easy as carrying her. Last month the doctor did a sonogram, and she was pretty sure we were having a little girl. Russ was standing there crying and holding my hand as we looked at the screen. “Look Elli that is our little Emma.” It was times like these that my love grew for Russ. I could be so frustrated with him, and he would be so sweet the next minute that my frustration would float away. When I went to look at the house my heart sank. There was a lot of natural light everywhere except the garage. Oh, the garage had some natural light, and it was big so I knew I could get some nice size canvases in there and I could use my blow torch for metal work. It was a lovely home, and it had an inground pool. I felt rich. My mom was going to love the place. I was wondering if she would move here to be close to us and Emma. I was learning that you can’t plan everything or things for Elli always change. Well, my mom had met a couple of widows who worked at the university. She first met Sheila, mom was typing up Sheila’s papers and mom transcribed her book. Mom thought Sheila’s book was interesting and they started talking. Sheila was the first real friend I had seen my mom have. I never thought about it. I was an awful daughter, was my thought, when this realization overtook me. Sheila, Lois and Mom started to share expenses in a cute home near campus. Mom had stopped doing laundry for anyone else but who lived in the house. They were thinking about getting someone else to move into the fourth bedroom. They all agreed that it had to be someone who fit their little group. I was worried that I wouldn’t have a place to stay when it was a late night. Lois and Sheila thought I fit into their little group very well and left the bedroom empty for me. I was happy that my mom had these new friendships. Emma came the week after finals. I didn’t know how lucky I was to get all my grades in, and I was able to take about a half a dozen paintings downtown to the art gallery to sell. Max, the new director of the gallery, said I needed to get an agent. I had been taking paintings to the gallery since Ms. Plank took me there. He said, “You could have your paintings all over the States if you had someone working for you to get your name out there.” I was pleased and a little embarrassed by his gushing all over me. We kept walking back and forth in front of my paintings and he finally asked me if I would mind if he worked on getting me known. He would only take a small percentage of the sales. I thought why not. We never wrote up a contract, but we shook hands and that was when my water broke. Max drove me to the hospital. I told him I could do it on my own, but he insisted. Russ met me there and Emma came into the world two hours later. My mom came to the hospital and was so excited to see her baby have a baby. She couldn’t believe how easy this pregnancy was for me. That was when I heard her horror story about having me. Why didn’t I ask her how it was to have me before? I really was not a great daughter. She was in labor for days with me. The doctor thought her labor would stop because she wasn’t progressing. She had morning sickness the whole nine months, so she was begging the doctor to take the baby. Finally, on the third day the doctor said it was time to decide about having a c-section. Mom didn’t have any help after the baby was born, which made Mom not excited about having another baby. My parents had just started talking about having another child when my dad died. I couldn’t believe my mom’s confession at my hospital bed. Why wasn’t my mom mad at me? She ended by saying she was lucky to have just me because she just barely made enough to take care of the two of us. I made a vow to myself when I sold my next painting, I was going to do something really nice for her. My luck continued as Emma was the perfect baby. I could paint with her in her baby carrier, and I got a lot of work done. Once Russ came home and went ballistic when he saw paint on her head. I hadn’t even noticed it. We went out to buy a playpen that night. That didn’t help much because she was happiest when she was in her carrier. To be honest, so was I; I couldn’t get enough snuggles in. I didn’t know I could love someone that much. When she got too big to be in the front, I wore her on my back. She loved it when I would paint big paintings because I would be moving all over the garage. I sold two large paintings thanks to Max. One on each side of the country. I was able to buy my mom a new car. Nothing fancy but it was new and paid for. It was small so she could see over the hood, and it had the best safety rating in case she got into an accident. She was very proud of the car and her widowed friends didn’t worry about her coming to visit me. She couldn’t believe me when I handed her the key and said it was hers. “Honey, I can’t take this. It is too much.” “Oh, yes you can, and you will. You have been very good to me. Besides, I wanted you to be able to come visit me without worrying about you on the road with that old junker. Besides, Russ has already ordered someone to come and take your car to sell it for parts.” With the leftover money we put windows all along the side of the garage to give me more natural light. I was glad there weren’t any trees along this side of the house. I would have to wait until the next painting was sold to insulate the garage. I decided not to go back to Central to teach. Raven wasn’t sure about my plan even though she supported me. I decided to paint full-time for a year. I didn’t think I could leave Emma with a sitter just yet. Max was working on selling my paintings or trying to get them into museums. I was feeling pretty good about everything. I just wished Russ were feeling good about the situation. He was thrilled I wasn’t going back to work though he thought I would put more effort into the house. Of course, I painted Emma’s room. It was so adorable in my opinion even if I was the one who designed it. I painted all kinds of butterflies flying all over the room. Russ thought I should paint the rest of the house because it was all white. He thought I would want to decorate it too. I wanted to paint. The only way I knew how to decorate was with my paintings. I felt like we didn’t have money to buy anything that was decorative. We used our money to go towards house payments, house bills, and buy food and clothes. Russ’s clothing bill was huge while I was happy with wearing what he called workout clothes. My mom would let me paint the walls when I started to earn enough money for my own paints. When I would go to the hardware store for paint, the clerk finally asked me one day what I was painting with these small amounts of paint or paint that was on discount because the color wasn’t mixed right. I told him I was an artist, and I used anything I could find cheap. I just needed to paint. From then on, he would keep paints for me behind the counter and sell them to me cheaper if I would show him a picture of what I painted. One day I went in to sketch him behind his counter and brought him a painting I did of him on a piece of wood I found in the trash behind the store. This simple gift actually got him all teary eyed. He had me sign the back because when he died, he wanted to leave it for his children to sell because he knew I was going to be famous one day. I was so touched by him that I got glassy eyed too. I started to put paintings that I just wasn’t sure if they were finished around the house. I thought if I saw them in a different light or a quick glance, I would see what was missing. I had to admit I got a little carried away. One day Russ came home. “Elli, I feel like we live in an art gallery. Plus, I see all these little handprints all over the furniture and floors. Can’t you at least wait until they are dry before you bring them into the house, so Emma won’t mess them up and in turn make a mess of our house? It can’t be healthy for her anyway. She sucks her thumb and half of these handprints around here are missing a thumb print.”