And, There You Go, Beautiful~

Today was the first time I’ve made enchiladas for one since my honey and I made them for two more than 9 months ago.

And I understand, normally, this isn’t any thing to “write home” about,  or to write about at all, but for me, it’s pretty significant.

Enchiladas were our thing.

Every Saturday, or almost every Saturday, we would dosey-do around in our own little (and I do mean little!) cocina making them.

I always prepared the red chile, because according to my husband, “nobody makes red chile like you, Beautiful.”

He took great pride in preparing the tortillas, but I was always in a hurry to eat.

“Oh, C’mon, Handsome. Hurry up. This chile smells so good. Can’t we start making the tortillas now?”

“No, Beautiful.  You can’t rush the process. The oil has to get to the perfect temperature.”

He reminded me of this every single time.

“And see, now that the oil is just right, a quick dip on this side, followed by a quick dip on this side. And, there you go, Beautiful.”

With that, he would hand me the plate with (in his mind, at least) the perfectly dipped tortilla.

I smothered it in chile, sprinkled it with cheese, and if it was going into his tummy, tossed on some onions, lots of onions.

Then, I would hand the plate back to him and he would dip another tortilla, place it on the one already on the plate, and hand the plate back to me. On and on, until we both had a stack of enchiladas.

I told you, enchiladas were our thing. We loved making them. We love eating them. We loved making them and eating them together.

So, today, me – in our cocina alone, making enchiladas. It was a big deal.

And I realized, in a way I hadn’t before, that a heart,

if given

enough time,

enough tender love and support,

enough freedom to cry tears,

enough grace to come messily undone,

will eventually find its way.

I knew today was the day. The sky, cloudy. The air, crisp. The craving, courageous. So, I stepped into the kitchen and made enchiladas.

And to my surprise, it felt right.

Not the way it used to, not the way I wished it could still be, not the way it had always been up to this point, but, it felt right for now, here, today.

And I knew in the loneliest place of my heart, that if I could see my honey, he would be standing there, just watching, a smile on his face, a nodding of his head in approval, a joy bubbling over in his heart.

As I tested the oil to make sure it was perfectly hot, I heard his words again, “You can’t rush the process.”

As I dipped the tortilla the way I had seen him do so many times before, and then placed it on my plate, I heard his words again.

“And see, now that the oil is just right, a quick dip on this side, followed by a quick dip on this side. And, there you go, Beautiful.”

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And, there you go, Beautiful.

Yes, indeed.

A heart will eventually find its way.

But, you can’t rush the process.

Oh…. and by the way….. my enchiladas …

they. were. amazing.

If only I could give you a bite, Handsome.  If only I could.

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