in search of silver linings
I’ve spent the last six months in search of silver linings, and I know I am not alone. Life dramatically changed in March, and ever since then I seem to be grasping at the new and the novel, in the “glass is half full” type of way. When the kids came home, I was thrilled to cook and clean and enjoy a full dinner table. When many of our summer plans were canceled, I embraced a more relaxed, commitment-free attitude (you know, the way that summer is supposed to be). When large celebrations were postponed for a year, I sunk down into my sweats, happy that I would not need to fit into any of my more formal attire. But when we lost power for eight days because of a storm with a name I can’t spell or pronounce, I had to try really hard to find the positive, the sliver of good that comes from a hot house, downed trees, and no electricity or Internet. But I think I found it.
We were in the less than 1% without power in our town by the time it was restored. I was both proud and horrified. Our home looked like it had been through a war, and when the bombing stopped, we were left with the cleanup. And cleaned we did. The easiest part was throwing out everything in the fridge and freezer as it had all gone bad. Out went the ham given to us annually at Christmas from my husband’s brother (there may have been two). Out went the almost full jars of gourmet mayonnaises - bought on a whim, tasted, and ostracized to the far reaches of the fridge. There were containers of capers and olives and chutneys. And cheeses and cold cuts and sausages. Heave ho. And before I knew it, I was staring at an empty vessel.
There is something very liberating about an empty fridge and freezer. It is pristine and clean and smells good and I wanted to keep it that way.
“But we have to eat, Mom,” said one of our kids who had returned home to live with us during the quarantine. And of course, he was right, but I felt protective of the uninhabited space. It had taken a severe tropical depression, but I now had a clean slate and I was tasked with filling the bare shelves and I wanted to get it right.
This time of COVID has taught me a few things. I love having the bedrooms in our home full. The mudroom makes a pretty good office. Eating outside is wonderful. There are actually some TV series worth watching. I have a pretty good poker face (game on!). FaceTime is not as bad as I thought. And less is more.
And as I think about the last of those lessons, I am reminded of two events that made quite an impression on me. The first was a small memorial service, held outside in a shaded garden for a friend’s father, and the other a small 60th birthday, also held outside, under a tent near the ocean. Both were intimate and memorable because they were not big, because those included felt honored, and because the honorees were celebrated in the most magnificent way. I wondered if the memorial service would have been lost inside a big cold church and if the birthday party would have felt far less personal had there been 100 guests.
So, as I tackled the fridge, I did so with this in mind: less is more. When I went to the grocery store, I bought only those things we needed. I steered clear of the fancy dressings and the flavored pickles. I resisted the five different kinds of grainy mustards and the Indian curries. I restocked with fresh fruit and fresh vegetables and nothing that could get lost and grow old in the rear of the fridge.
Isaias gave me more than just eight hot days; it gave me the chance to purge and replenish. I hope post-COVID, I will take the same care in deciding what I will bring with me and what will be left behind. Less is more…heave ho! We have shifted and sorted, reimagined and repurposed, and even accepted and appreciated during these last six months. And just as my fridge sparkles fresh, I welcome the days ahead - to reset, and the opportunity to get it right.