anyone who knows me, knows i love to dream, big and small. i add wishes to my dream jar, daily. mostly i wish for a place that feels like home, in my heart. for years i was away, from this midwest city i was born in. and after returning...oh how i wish it still felt like home.
as a little girl, there were summers i would leave the concrete of the midwest behind, and my bare feet would become one with the caribbean soil. i would run and play, all day long. my skin would turn a deep saffron color, curious eyes would guide me, my hair salty, from the water. my days didn’t end until the turquoise waters would open up, and welcome the sun for the day. rice and peas would fill my tummy, nighttime dreams would cradle, dis part yankee gal, til morning. and then, my friendship with the island, would begin all over again. i had two homes, two villages, that would raise me up... i promise you, there was no taste sweeter, than to feel this type of love. never would i imagine, that there would come a day, that my heart would long for a place to call home.
once as a family, we would be homeless, no pillow for our dreams, not even a rusted, tin roof for the rain to serenade us to sleep. during this short period of our lives, my longing for a home would be become stronger, my faith would not fold, and i would vow to always have enough on my table, just in case someone was in need.
...in the spirit of those who hadn’t enough.
this time in our lives, would burn deep inside of us, together, but separately, as well. achieving my dream, of a respected culinary career, would begin to tear down old walls of hurt; watching my husband earn a law degree, would turn the page, to a new chapter of dreams achieved.
these days my wish is to welcome a fresh start, to be embraced by a new community, that would be conscious of one another, maybe even share a dream or two over a fence. inside of this place we would call home, i might paint the kitchen a crazy color, where the breath of my wok, could dance along walls, and escape through large crank windows, passing my garden of collards, into the country air.
but before i share all my wishes, i should tell you about where my restless heart, weaves all these dreams, currently. we live in a old, brick house on the corner, not far from the hood, i grew up in. inside of this home there are many many corners, that are filled with books, and life. there is a fire place with a mantel, that holds a beloved photo- a view of, notre dame, in paris and many of my photographs. this also is where my potted herbs sit, the sun is just right.
in the kitchen there is a big farm table. in the mornings, this is where i press my cup of cardamom,coffee and teach our two, teenage kids. i teach them science, math, history, poetry, cooking... over all, i teach them to be kind and compassionate people. we have homeschooled since the beginning... always. at this table is where our bread is broken, where we talk over one another, laugh, cry, and pray. i am at home most, being a mother.
here’s to new beginnings, and making the most of what we have, right where we are.
peace and blessings~
Oh Christina, my dear friend whom I cannot wait to wrap my arms around her neck and sit across that big farm table talking for hours. One day, I shall be so lucky to meet her in person, to hear her stories, indulge in her made-with-the-most-tender-love food, and hopefully view the world through her eyes. Soul Aperture, a name never more fitting, offers up the most beautiful real-life, from-the-heart words and images. Truly, I can't say enough about how much I adore this woman and all she is ~ thank you Christina for being you.
[images via Christina Martin]