As I write these words, it is one of those rare occasions when I have the house to myself. Ahh. Peace and quiet.
Don’t misunderstand. I love my family and love spending time with them. But here in our home near Pine Island, peace and quiet—particularly the quiet part—are foreign concepts. With a husband, four children, and our children’s friends who are here on occasion, this is an active household, one that makes for busy, albeit joyous, lives. When December 2010 rolled around recently, like many people, I thought, “The year is over already?!” Our jobs, the children, and other activities keep Rich and I so busy year-round, that it seemed we had just rung in 2010 a few weeks ago. Then all of a sudden, it was 2011. Here at the Paras home, there is never a dull moment.
That said, I am happy to experience a little dullness this evening. I ended up having the house to myself because Rich and the kids went to my father-in-law’s in New Jersey to watch football. As much as I love football (ahem), I stayed behind because I have to get up very early in the morning, and they will be getting home very late tonight.
What does a busy wife and stepmom do when left alone? Well, this one savors the temporary solitude. Other than the humming and purring of the washer and dryer downstairs, the house is quiet. And I am rather enjoying it. I decided shortly after my gang left that I would use this opportunity to cook foods that I like but that they don’t. For one, I have a pot of pinto beans seasoned with ham hocks cooking on the stove. (If my youngest were here, she would turn up her nose at the mere mention of “ham hocks.”) I am going to heat my black iron skillet in the oven later and then make buttermilk cornbread. And I made a quick trip to the grocery store earlier to buy minute steaks, which I will dredge in flour and fry in hot oil. It’s not a meal for kings, I realize, but these are a few of the foods I grew up eating in the South, and my tummy is growling right now as the smell of the pinto beans wafts from the kitchen. I am fixing them the way my mom taught me, slowly, letting them cook somewhere between a simmer and a low boil until they are tender. Had I planned a little better, I would have cooked a pot of turnip greens as well, because my better half and the kids absolutely detest the smell of turnip greens.
Upstairs, supper is cooking. Downstairs, I have a low fire going in the wood-burning stove. I love the aroma and crackle of the fire, the warmth of which is so welcoming on this nearly single-digit cold night. I realize that in this space I often reminisce about my dad, and I hope you’ll forgive me, as so many things make me think of him, more so as I get older. As I was carefully adding a log to the fire earlier, that simple act made me think of him—Daddy, bringing in firewood from our back porch to the den and keeping the fire ablaze. Occasionally, he would straighten out clothes hangers and let my brother and I roast marshmallows, the fire licking at those big marshmallows until they were nearly burnt, melting, and gooey. Again, such simple things, but oh what wonderful memories it gave me.
I think a lot about how high-tech and busy and fast our world has become. The “no wait, get it now” society we live in is meant to make our lives easier, but I sometimes wonder if it in many ways creates stress. I hope I never lose sight of the joy that comes from simple things, like roasting marshmallows under my dad’s careful eye and cooking family dishes taught to me by my mom. More important is the love I feel from them, even from my dad who is no longer here with us. I thank God for these blessings.
I leave you with 1 John 5:14—This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us.
—Kim Paras
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