Tonight, as the sky is getting darker earlier, I glanced around my kitchen and considered the garden-grown melon, the bowl with ripe peaches, the platter of vegetables about to be grilled. The hardboiled, brown eggs simmering with onion skins and tea on the gas stove. The salted slice of tomato, just placed in my mouth. The tamarind chicken marinating in the fridge. The chilled bottle of Cava. Chickpeas soaking in water, to be later turned into hummus. I picked up my antique Kiddush cup and realized how fortunate I really am.
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