Making salsa is not new to me; it reminds me of me newly wed days, anticipating every taste that my husband would take, hoping it would bring him joy and satisfaction (it did). It also reminds me of my family. More specifically, it reminds me of my brother, Sam. Sam made the best salsa.
Past tense speaking of a loved one is hard; losing someone in your most inner circle is devastating. Sam, my younger brother, died last August. It was a capstone on a challenging season.
I stopped making salsa several years ago:
There was that time I was on bedrest for two months with my first born and was later diagnosed with a thyroid disease.
There was that time when my husband, daughter and I moved back to the city from the mountains and lived with my parents. By my own choice, my mom's salsa trumped my own and I conceded in the kitchen.
There was that time when we bought a crusty old cat-lady house and moved in during my first trimester of pregnancy with my second baby. major renovation projects and pregnancy nausea are not partners.
Then I was heavily pregnant (emphasis of the heavy), chasing after a one year old.
I was also helping with my mom's recovery from a major back surgery.
And then we lost Sam.
Seven months later, I am resurfacing. I no longer have a newborn, I am sleeping(ish), and I have a tremendous support group of girlfriends (my mom included) who have rallied by my side. They are watching my kids so I can get counseling, so I can go exercise, so I can... WHO CARES! They are just watching them so I can take time to remember and mourn and dream and find my love for life again.
As the bamboo wind chime clink around outside and my children both sleep (at the same time!), I reflect on the vibrant sense of life that is stirring in my spirit. I am grateful for my support system: my husband, my friends, my family .I am grateful for springtime and the abundance of sunshine and new life. And I am grateful for fresh salsa.
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