Pasta Life

My mom bought matching maxi skirts for herself and me today at T.J. Maxx.  She made her special lemony hummus in my kitchen while I ran an errand.   We tried on dresses in my bedroom, taking turns in front of the skinny mirror and giving each other advice about which one to wear to my cousin’s wedding.  We also took turns scolding each other about not seeking medical attention for some chronic health issues we each have.

Yesterday I got to watch the US-Germany World Cup game with my dad, an avid soccer fan, at a local restaurant famous for its crabcakes.  This afternoon he walked over to my friend’s house to collect Jackie, and they enjoyed some sweet conversation on the walk home.  He took out my garbage and is figuring out how to fix some broken railings on our front porch.

This is life, pasta life.  It’s filling, nourishing, and yet so simple, so under-appreciated.  (Please, gluten-haters, just… don’t.)

My parents just finished five years of living in Beijing, China, and are going to be working in Prague, Czech Republic, starting in late July.  We overlapped with them for four years in China, even though we were in different cities.  We’re used to not living in the same city, but we’ve also gotten the hang of doing life together in a simple, natural rhythm when we are together.  There are times when we go to museums, shops or restaurants, and times when we plan bigger outings like hikes or amusement parks.  But mostly we just do pasta life.

I love when I’m chopping something in the kitchen and I hear Dad having a heart-to-heart with Jackie on the couch.  Or when I come downstairs in the morning and the coffee’s already on, and Mom’s journaling out on the front porch with Collin keeping her company, because he loves the early morning too.

I love that Mom is such a good salad maker and how that takes the load off me when I’m cooking other parts of the meal.

I love that Dad spends time watching Collin play Minecraft, asking him about the ins and outs of the fantasy-world game.

I love that I have to (pretend to) scold my parents and my kids at the same time for jokes about flatulence.

It’s just easy, and good.  And it’s all the things I want to be thankful for,  now and always.

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