"It's Life"

“It's life”, he remarked as he ate his dinner. I looked at him and asked what he was talking about. He retorted with absolute delight,,”The pasta”. I stood there thinking about what he had said and why. He loved homemade pasta so the comment seemed to fit. Another round of homemade pasta.

Homemade pasta had just been served from several 'pasta pucks' that had been stored in the freezer for a few months, for that last minute meal. Today I would make more pasta dough and freeze the 'pucks' for for next time. My days of making the dough, rolling it into pasta then cooking it were over. I would make the dough then freeze it. Others would assume control for the cooking and dressing of it..

Dad would cook it. He always did. Eliminating the cooking step for me was a game changer. Someone else would do it. My presence was not needed. The boys could do it while mom and dad were there.. Freedom from drudgery. And everyone was happy. If there was a shortage of pasta pucks, I would simply eat a hotdog then make more dough.

Making pasta dough was easy. This the boys knew. At 8 and 5 years of age these pasta connoisseurs had begun learning the craft a few years ago. The taste difference of homemade pasta was an obvious joyful moment for these boys. Even dad seemed happy . He loved homemade noodles with cottage cheese, his family favourite since he was a boy. His wife, their mom, liked it too but would rather have saurkraut filling from pierogies.

Everyone received something homemade worthy. Croissants would wait till I taught them how. First I had to learn! The fun of eating in was all around us. Health and wealth was in the room.The vegetables were nearby.

Handwriting's ComfortingTouch

Handwriting is becoming obsolete says the author. It is no longer needed or wanted.Today's generation believes in the absolute power of online messaging to replace the drudgery of handwriting, the pen and paper way.  

Handwriting offers us a special and unique style of someone we know that makes us feel special each and every time. Pen in hand is a personal triumph. It takes time and to do.. Handwriting can be a declaration of love or friendship of the person who is writing in his unique style known by no other.

I shudder to think that 'greeting' cards for those special moments or people in our lives do not rate that upgrade that comes from handwriting. Because my handwriting is not the greatest (I am left handed) cards of all sorts offer a sense of relief and wonder for me, a place where adding more is commonplace with the handwriting skill of the writer. It is a secret language like no other.

I was not proficient at handwriting so I practiced and practiced with pen, often, to improve my style. I used both hands hoping one would be the winner. I envied the handwriting style of others I knew. It was perfection. My right side seemed useless so I printed, scribbled or wrote to strengthen my brain's connections to that hand.Using both hands made sense. What if my handed side was injured, one day. The other side could help.

During this period of mourning, I have been given comfort through the memories that cards, letters and notes left behind by him. He was my GPS and family right from the start.  I was a cocktail waitress: he, a late Thursday evening customer, arriving with friends after a long week on a business trip. Our lives spanned over 50 years. He touched my heart over and ove in words that have soothed the pain of his passing. Mr. Wiggles, our 12 year-old retriever, joined him that months later.

Loyalty, caring and love kept us together. The vestiges of a life well-lived is showcased in handwritten notes and cards. This handwritten style of love has kept me strong, comforted and connected. I was and still am a lucky girl. The personal nature of handwriting, the human symbols of communication, carries me forward knowing I mattered to someone special once upon a time. My heart is healing.