Any time I have gone to visit her upstairs unit, walking by her neighbors on the opposite side has been torture. The fragrant cooking going on inside makes your mouth water. Today, the master of the house came home for lunch. A young, handsome, immaculately dressed man from India. As he was leaving, we passed on the stairs. I smiled and mentioned how enticing the food smelled whenever I was visiting my friend, his neighbor. He asked if I wanted to taste it, inviting me spontaneously into his house and introducing me to his lovely, petite, shy wife. She artistically made me a plate with the leftovers, explaining what each was called. I felt helpless at the thought that I was eating her lunch! They apologized for not having any furniture. There was hardly anything inside but the bare necessities. The kitchen was beyond minimalist. I asked if he liked to garden and use his own fresh produce and his face lit up like a candle was inside. He said that when they had saved enough money, they were going to return and buy the little farm of their dreams back home in India and grow and sell their own crops.
They shared their home - #306, their food, their dreams. It was so good to be invited inside! I felt honored and blessed indeed. One of those precious lagniappe moments.......to treasure forever! :)
And I was hungry, they fed me.....which gave me strength for those grueling stairs!
1 comment:
"lagniappe" ? And how is this word pronounced?
Remember the other day Brita used a word "I don't remember which one" and you said "That's how that word is pronounced!" Well that's what "lagniappe" did to me!
Was the Indian food good?:)
Mr Loverby
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