There was no kindergarten when I was growing up in Yugoslavia, and my first attempts at socializing started at the ripe age of five in preschool. While most of my classmates in senior grade were veterans, jaded and resilient, skillful at banter and repartee, as well as avoiding elbow nudges in the lunch line, I was a novice… a wide-eyed, timid, and precocious child, too serious and mature to fit in, and not at all flexible enough to fight for a spot at the forefront.
Making friends was never an easy game for me and it took a lot of time and a few amazing people to convince me that I was someone good enough to call a friend. I decided to switch continents more than twenty years ago and putting the ocean between me and my friends was one of the most difficult decisions in my life. I have several shoe boxes filled with letters framed (from the days before email) with that old red, white, and blue airmail insignia that used to thrill me when I’d open the mailbox. These magical letters travel with me every time I move. I cannot part with pages and pages of words that arrived from afar when I felt I was utterly alone in my new country.
I depended on my tribe to help me with advice, to encourage me when I needed a prompt, and to admonish me when I was taking a wrong turn. They were on the other side of the world, but airmail letters (par avion) turned to emails and webcam calls thanks to the technology that I despised as a haughty Liberal Arts college student. We were as connected as if we were living on the same street. I embraced every facet of communication trying to stay close to my family and friends, knowing they were only a Skype call away when I needed them.
But I am in California now, nine hours behind European time. When I am sipping my second glass of wine close to midnight, they are
wide awake at work, blinded by sunshine and completely removed from the melancholy mood that engulfs me. In a state of utmost desolation a few weeks ago, when it seemed that the world was collapsing all around me and I was sinking deeper and deeper into a quicksand pit, I called one of my best friends and when he answered on his cell phone, I sobbed my story to him, utterly displacing him and forcing him into a state of panic induced by the abrupt cessation of the call, as my Skype credits evaporated.
Unbeknownst to me, that call started a chain reaction with him calling my sister in Germany, who called my daughter in Berkeley, who in turn called me as soon as she woke up that Sunday after St. Patrick’s Day party somewhere on campus. My tribe was pulling together for me, reaching through the ether and joining to come to my aid. I called for their support and they aligned forces beautifully, prepared to listen to my incoherent cries and offer as much comfort as they could from that far away.
But another tribe was reaching out to me, enveloping me in soft, billowy words of support, anchoring me while I was adrift, convincing me that California sunshine is for real and that one day soon the clouds in my eyes would disappear. For a moment, I felt abandoned and alone just like in preschool, but when my email, Facebook, and Twitter exploded with words of concern and wishes to help, I was overwhelmed. I knew I still had an enormously steep slope to climb to get myself out of the hole, but realizing that I would not be alone on that adventure, made it appear easier.
My birthday on March 20th was threatening to be one of the worst days of my life, but instead I floated on this cloud of warm and fuzzy feelings and I felt as if I were receiving small injections of energy every time a new wish would come my way. I was not able to lift myself up and face the ugliness that surrounded me, but my friends were there, in real life and across the wires, listening to me, holding my hand, sending sweet words of support and love, and making me see the future much brighter and liberating than I could have ever envisioned.
My gloom melted little by little while I sipped cool prosecco on an afternoon with a friend at a tapas bar… when the mailman handed me a big package filled with the most carefully chosen edibles that another friend’s children picked for mine… when I donned a silly glittery crown at a local Mexican restaurant and blew out the candles while everyone around me sang “Happy Birthday!”… when a friend from Canada sent me a fresh-from-the-printing-press copy of the book her husband just published… when a beautifully written card arrived in the mail hiding within its fold a gift certificate for Trader Joe’s… when I sipped a cappuccino at a local
mall with the first friend I made through my blog… when my girls handed me their meticulously crafted birthday cards while a candle burned in a flourless chocolate cake they baked for me… when a friend from the East Coast soothed me patiently for hours while I cried and another friend from the East Coast managed to shake me out of a moment of despair… when I opened a bag full of cosmetics sitting in the passenger seat after a high school play… when a Twitter friend generously offered her accommodations if I ever needed them… and when another invited me to a wonderful event as a guest…. all these things shined light into a darkness I couldn’t bear alone.
I am still using Skype as the umbilical cord that connects me to my family and friends overseas, but I know that I am not alone on the western edge of the American continent. My tribe is with me and my path seems to be illuminated by a thousand scintillas floating my way from all over the world. And I feel safe.
There is comfort food and there is safe food. Rice pudding always gave a smell and a taste that made me feel safe and I can taste it even without the recipe… the smell of it riding on the words of those who have proved to me that I am not so alone as I sometimes feel.
RICE PUDDING
Ingredients:
- 250gr Arborio rice
- 1 quart (1 l) water
- 2-3 cups of milk
- ¼ cups granulated sugar
- ½ cup raisins (optional)
- 2 tsp cinnamon
Directions:
Rinse the rice and place in the heavy pot. Cover with the water and heat to boil. Turn the heat to low and simmer for 12-15 minute, until almost done and water almost evaporates.
Add the milk little by little and cook on low heat, stirring frequently, for 20-25 minutes, until creamy and thickened (depending on the type and initial doneness of the rice, you might need between 2 and 3 cups of milk). Keep in mind that it will thicken more as it stands after it’s taken off the heat.
Stir in the raisins if using and sugar and pour into serving dishes. Sprinkle with cinnamon and let stand at room temperature. (You can also refrigerate it if you choose).
Sometimes, life does weight a little bit too heavy, doesn’t it?
Glad to hear you have a circle (or chain) of people in your life that can ease the way – even if they can’t wipe it all away.
Hugs.
Yes, life sometimes ambushes you:) I have made it through the hardest part, the rest should be much easier. Thanks for the hugs – I can always use them!
Lana,
What a touching post. I am so glad you have such a supportive tribe. Thinking of you and sending lots of good wishes. xoxoxo
Thanks, Laurie! I don’t feel alone any more, which is such a relief! Hugs!
Wishing you more ups than downs. It seems as if these past few years have been challenging for many of us. Sending you virtual hugs. Hope to one day meet you and share stories.
We are not that far away and getting together is quite doable:) thanks for your kind words:)
as soon as Passover is over and done with, this is the first thing I am going to make! Looks delish!
Thanks, Susan! I hope it comforts you as it comforted me:) we have to meet one of these days – we live so close! Happy Passover!
Lana i have thought about you for days and days and have said many a prayer on your behalf; that people near you physically as well as those far away would stand in the gap holding you up. i have not walked in your shoes but i have walked my own path and what i know for sure is that you are going to come out on the other side – you are loved, you are talented, you are strong . . . i get you . . . i hear you . . . i see you . . . and i am with you in this – even if i am not physically near, you are never far from my thoughts. blessings for you this Holy of holidays my friend . . . love you (((hugs)))
Thank you, Debra, for being my friend:) It does not matter that you are not physically close, I know that I can count on your love and support! You know that you are on of my dearest friends! Have a great holiday! Hugs back!
So happy to read you are feeling this way. Happy Easter.
Thanks, Barbara! It feels so good to hear the words of support and comfort:) happy Easter to you, too!
Dear Lana, your post has touched me deeply. I didn’ t know that you were sad or any of the specifics that brought you there. We only met for a brief afternoon, but please know that I do feel as though you are a kindred spirit and I send you support and warmth across the distance. Beautful recipe and beautiful writing.
Wendy, we met for a brief moment, but I feel the same – kindred spirits recognize one another:) We might be separated by several states, but I welcome your support and appreciate your kind words:)
I’m so happy I know you, Lana.
I’m so happy your birthday had some bright and happy moments. It’s an honor to be part of your tribe. xoxo
You know that you have a special place in my heart:) Hugs back!
I so understand. I love where I’m living but there are times when life is difficult that I feel so far from family and old friends. I’ve been gone about the same amount of time but I still ache for reassurance every now and again.
Oh, Maureen, we need to connect more directly! The fact that both of us are in a voluntary exile does not make it easier to be far away from family and friends:)
You can call me anytime! GREG
Thanks, Greg:) It makes me happy that you said that:)
I am so glad that your tribe here in the states gathered around you when you needed them most! I’m sorry it threatened to be such a rough birthday. It is incredibly hard to be far from family when you need them near.
We were a very social family and living in a smaller town where everybody knew everybody meant that you could always count on people when you are in need, but the price was that everybody knew your business:)
Just dropping in to let you know that I’m thinking about you. I’m so happy you have a good tribe around you. Can’t wait to see you.
[K]
Thank you, my friend! I hope you know that you are the big part of my tribe:)
I may not be in the tribe, but just know, I am on the sidelines cheering you on!
We have met only recently, but you are a part of my tribe:) Thanks for your support!