Did you enjoy your 4th of July?
Independence day. The celebration of victory. A glorius extended weekend for those of us in the states. A grand old time. Yet for me the 4th is also one of those milestones in the history of my husband, Isamu’s, illness. It’s one of those dates I wrote about in my April Eater’s Digest. It’s an anniversary that summons my careful scrutiny. I tiptoe around it like I might a sleeping guard, trying to get past his watch without being caught in his wrath.
Yet this year, while my attention was turned and the careful scrutiny was temporarily relaxed, mirth snuck in. Past and present. There they were, gentle reminders to keep stepping forward, that the sleeping guard might not be such a grouch after all.
In the present is my ten-year old son Gilbert, with no memories of the July 4th nine years ago when he was whisked from his father’s lap as he started to have the seizure that was one of the final markers that the fight for his life might be over. No memories at all. This year Gilbert woke up eager to greet the sunny day, asking about fireworks and smiling with innocent joy and excitement. And recently Gilbert helped lead me back to a July 4th before he was even a speck in my eye. It was just a few weeks ago while we were preparing for a photo shoot for Martha Stewart’s Whole Living Magazine. I was, as you can imagine, a bit nervous about the shoot. (Keep an eye out for the October issue!)
Gilbert asked: Who is Martha Stewart?
I pulled a book from my packed cookbook shelf: Martha Stewart’s MENUS for Entertaining. This is Martha Stewart I showed him. And then I cracked open the book. Inside was an inscription from my husband. . .
Let’s have a clambake!
Love,
Isamu
And a clambake we had. July 4th, 1994. We were in our first apartment together on a rare tree-lined street in San Francisco’s Mission District. We packed the house with friends and spent days preparing food, including a layered coconut cream cake made from fresh coconuts. On the morning of the 4th Isamu threw the hard nuts from our second floor deck onto rocks in our landlord’s yard downstairs to crack them open, one after the other. What delight that day brought! I was in the kitchen doing my kitchen-thing (before I even knew it was a thing), and he was buying clams and corn, meticulously picking out the music for the festivities and throwing coconuts.
On this July 4th I nestle up to that memory and my sweet and eager boy and let the bothersome images fade. My hope is that you too found the ways to embrace the joy of summer and the victory of the day. There is always something to celebrate!