Quietness

1. Celebrating

It's my grandmother's birthday, my Chachi reminded us today. She is 94 years old.

They celebrated in the cafeteria with banana pudding. And they celebrated in her room with socks and undershirts.

2. Fresh Produce

She would want to know this.

We got our first weekly shipment of organic vegetables from a farm west of here. Little baby carrots. Little strawberries. Onions. Greens. Garlic. Beets. Asparagus.

I grabbed the carrots immediately.

Rinse them off, David, Trudy said. (She knows my ways.)

They're organic.

They're dirty.

My grandmother gave us carrots right out of the ground. And red potatoes, too.

I ate the carrots. But I rinsed the strawberries first -- they were dirty.

3. Strawberry Memories

The evening air outside is like a summer in Michigan 21 years ago. My grandmother, grandfather and I would sit on the porch in the evening and feel the coolness descend.

And during a walk one day, she showed me those wild strawberries -- strawberries that will weave their way one way or another into any story I tell for the rest of my life.

The air outside is cool like it was those nights back then. And the taste of our little local strawberries is like the taste of the ones we picked back then.

4. Quietness

There's a quietness outside that I need to go listen to.

Happy Birthday, Nani.

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