Tabuli love

I smelled chopped parsley as I woke from my nap. I wandered into the kitchen where my former neighbor, friend and sister-of choice was chopping away to make tabuli.  Tabuli is more than tabuli...it is memories of wonderful meals in Geneva, Paris and Damascus. 

We don't see each other enough as much my fault as her schedule but there she was in our Geneva Kitchen where we could catch up. I've always thought of a kitchen as the heart of a house and the heart was beating well. 

She wasn't alone. J, my housemate, was there and her new husband and mine were also there. English, Arabic and even a bit of French sprinkled our conversations. Although the men being there was new, it brought up memories of J, M and myself making a Christmas dinner proving once and for all that women can share a kitchen with no problems.

The men had a chance to get know each other as they bbq'ed. I was so relieved to discover how much I liked her new husband. In principle I always accept the partner of anyone I care about, but there is a difference between acceptance and joy that the couple found each other.

We feasted late into the night.

As meaningful as the meal, a new memory was created as she shared the very professional DVD of her wedding, which I missed because I was too chicken to go to Damascus. Seeing the faces of friends and family-of-choice was another wonderful part of a wonderful day.