I’m never good at transitions. Overwhelmed by possibility, I try to solve the question of what comes next months in advance. I’m made easily anxious by the potential of nothing, seeing the unknown as a void, nearly impossible to fill. Driven by this fear, I become frenzied with the need to create something for myself.
If you read my last post, you’ll know that these worries fall parallel to the endless job search, coupled with a lack of inspiration in my current job. With all of this, my mind’s become a mess of problem-solving, personal troubleshooting, and preparing for my next move. Demoralized and discouraged, I’ve actually found solace in sharing my fears with all of you (and often situating such fears within the narrative of food). It’s made me feel listened to, cared about, and empathized with. Reaching out to others, exposing yourself to vulnerability, raises the truth that so many others have experienced the same situation you find yourself in. Thank you.
And so with these thoughts, and with a week that piled other challenges on top of all this, I was looking forward to a weekend with my mom and my sisters. I love living in an all-woman household in Vermont (cat and turtle included), and it was cozy and comforting to fill out our female-dominated family by being reunited with my older sister.
A ten-minute walk from Harvard Square towards the Somerville border, her neighborhood is quiet and quaint, her street filled with families congregating by bike and other young professionals enjoying their first home.
When we all get together, we do little other than take long walks, explore shops, stay in coffee shops longer than appropriate, cooking, baking, eating, and then immediately discussing how we’ll conceive of and compose our next meal.
I’ll continue this week with other posts reflecting upon the weekend. Saturday evening involved rosé and our favorite recipe for no-cook pasta sauce (with a recipe to come!) and a lovely walk to meet a friend for an aperitif on the Charles, only to realize that I walked an hour and a half in the wrong direction! Adhering to habit, we woke up on Sunday a little before six, moving around the house with little purpose though much enjoyment, and finally walking to Tatte Bakery for pastries and coffee. I broke away from the group for a little while, getting caught up with friends at Juliet for a second breakfast, and carrying into the early afternoon with a visit to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (did you know that if your name is Isabella or Isabelle, that you get a free ticket?) Many reasons this became one of my favorite museums. More to come.
We left Cambridge mid-afternoon, following Route 2 across Massachusetts and back up to Vermont. We returned to a home seemingly left unchanged, books where we remembered them and a cat cuddled up on the couch. I love weekends like this best, when you feel like so much was done, so much was enjoyed, but that time stood still without you.