Borrowing Sugar: Good Neighbor Recipe

As I examine my life and the things that have happened, the people that I have lost, and the people that are here helping me now. There is just so much that happened that I didn’t expect. And the one food saying that almost embodies this feeling is “That is how the cookie crumbles.” Life is at times is difficult. But that is how it just has to be. We suffer and learn.

I’ve been thinking back trying to remember the memories of my childhood that involved food. I think I’m just struggling to tell the memories but still incorporate food. It’s becoming a challenge. Thinking about the blog and the way the posts have been sounding. It seems like I’m giving advice to myself but the concept of food keeps it relevant or real. But I also know that I could be more consistent with the blog too. More posts and more food. I see all these ways of improving the blog but I just want to make sure I myself am getting something from it. I remembered when living in South Komelic at my grandma’s house as a child. She has a neighbor by the name of Philisitne.

Phlisitine lived like a hundred yards west of my grandma. There was a path that was sand that took you to her house.  She lived there with her husband Jose. They both were hardworking but kind to us kids. We would go over there to visit. We were young but I remember walking to their house from my Grandmas.

They had a wooden door with a bell. Their fence was connected to the garden where they planted different fruits and vegetables. The door to their house was painted a baby blue. I rang the bell till somebody came out. 

Philistine always was there to answer the door. She would invite us in. Tell us to have a seat. Delighted to have company. She would give us juice. Ask us how our grandma was doing.  Sometimes I would go with my brother but I also would go alone after school before I went home. Philistine had grew grapes. And when they were in season, she would let us pick them to snack on.

Those tiny green grapes had so much life in them. And Philistine was such a kind person for her sharing with my brother and I the fruit she grew. We had nothing to give her but our smiles. She was more than happy with that.

I remember those days walking to her house. It wasn’t much but it was everything that could make me happy. Grapes and juice. Such a simpler time for me.

We lost Philistine a couple years back. It was such a surreal time. It was so quick and sudden. I felt that I never got to fully show her how much she made an impact on my life. I always will feel that connection to her. The grapes and juice.

In life things get difficult. And thinking about how I could be so comfortable with Philistine talking about her garden. Asking her the names of her cats. She was so easy to be around. So young at heart.

The things we can’t do anything about. Sometimes the outcome is not what you expect. I know Philistine is no longer here but in spirit and in memory, she is very much here. I see how even your neighbor can play a huge part of your life.

If I get the opportunity in the future I hope I can be a fraction of the neighbor she was to me. She set the bar in hospitality definitely. Such a sweet treat of the good old days.


Author: storiesfrommystomach

I am from a Village called South Komelik on the Tohono O'odham Nation. I enjoy poetry and philosophy. Hope you enjoy the blog! :)

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