A kitchen story of tenderness and peaches.
It’s an emotion and we have no choice but to feel it, Ben said as we waved my parents goodbye at LAX, .
They walked to the TSA and my eyes cried silent tears of love, regret, gratitude, fear, tenderness…
Should we go? I asked Ben.
Airport goodbyes are difficult, and I have more than one under my belt.
Ben hugged me.
“It’s up to you, my love,” he said.
They were about to disappear behind a long line of tired travelers, so we blew one last kiss and walked away.
I never liked airports, because every journey would eventually end, every plane would land, but also take off again. I never liked goodbyes, and I have always looked for a forever of some kind; as a child I could sense that after emptying a suitcase I would have to pack it again, sooner or later. I think that what I was afraid of, for a long time, was abandonment and loneliness. I dreaded my own everyday reality because I didn’t feel comfortable in it; traveling was an escape; one, however, that always took me back to where I didn’t want to be. I never liked airports.
As a child, and growing up, I felt too much — I couldn’t understand that beginnings and ends always coincided. But today I know that nothing in life ever ends — it evolves, it blossoms in us through the passing of time.
Yesterday my parents flew back to Italy after a month with us, here in Los Angeles.
Things haven’t always been easy, as happens with family, but they kept improving every day. The time we spent together was the best of my life, intense, complex at times, but also exciting, moving, and enlightening. In the kitchen, my mom and I had fun and learned from each other.
Goodbyes are still bittersweet, but today, thanks to a lot of work on myself, and thanks to the sacred union that I am blessed to have with my husband, I experience with courage the emotions of every beginning, and of every end.
Nothing dies, as long as I keep it alive in my heart, like a kiss, a moment of laughter, or a recipe.
When I arrived home from LAX I walked around the garden that my father had transformed into a little piece of heaven. I cut some dead branches with the tools he bought for me, I picked some mint for a watermelon salad, and then I smelled a rose that had blossomed the day before.
I asked myself if I had given my best during their stay. Had I enjoyed the preciousness of every moment together? Important pieces of life can slip away from me very easily if I don’t pay close attention.
It was getting late, and I knew that I wanted to make something comforting for dinner. Too much thinking and no action never resulted in a good dish.
And the kitchen is where I process my feelings. So I heated the oven to 375° and I made a traditional dessert form Piemonte, where I come from. Learn how to make my delicious stuffed peaches with amaretti cookies on the RECIPE page.