Monday, May 20, 2013

Heritage

I made Bushala, Assyrian soup, tonight for my dearest Nana, who hasn't been feeling well (guided by the wisdom of ages of her careful direction). We sat at the table and enjoyed wholesome, steaming bowls. And the more of her bowl she drank, the more she seemed to become enlivened. My dad walked by and took a taste despite himself and his dinner waiting for him in the oven. Then he took a second one. Then he took a cup full and sat down with us. Grandmother, father, daughter, enjoying the food of our heritage, just the three of us together. 

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