Everyone’s busy working and studying and practicing and participating.
Whatever happened to wasting time? What happened to the dish designed to soak up hours?
Gone, along with the lemonade stand and play dough. But not forgotten. Wasn’t there pleasure in many hands and much fuss?
So, without warning, I consecrated a Monday evening to long-form ravioli.
“Why?” my first conscript demanded. Soon he’d flicked off his screen. He rolled the dough long and longer, draped the fine yellow sheets across the table.
“You’re kidding,” sighed the girl balancing backpack and ballet bag. Soon she’d dropped her luggage. She spooned up cheese, she sliced and crimped.
By the time my co-captain reported, tired and taciturn, dinner was nowhere. We put on music. We simmered and sauced and served. It was late. There was homework and work work unfinished. But we’d accomplished so much.