Four hours before dinner, I began making Alouettes sans tête. In France, cooking is about good ingredients, but even more so – time. You cook slowly. You allow the ingredients to come to life. They become richer, tastier… simply, better.
We poured a glass of wine. Said, “Bon Appétit.” And took our first bites. Delicious. Rich. So French, and so us. We talked about the joy of a meal. A slow meal. Together. And he asked me, “What’s your blog going to be about tomorrow?” Smiling, already knowing, it would be this. Already knowing – I guess that’s the key. Yes, there is comfort in wine. In good food. But the greatest comfort, I think, is to be seen, to be known, and loved not only in spite of it all, but because of it all.
I shared my stories with Dominique from the very beginning. And he loved me. My story changes and grows every day, and he still listens. Still loves.
One of the hardest things about learning a new language is not what you’d expect, it is not about the speaking, nor the writing, but the listening. And it turns out that’s key for your own language (and every relationship) as well. To know someone, really know them, you have to take the time, and listen. You have to let them simmer, bubble even, but give them time to become their richest selves.
It is a relief to become. To be. To be yourself. Maybe the best gift we can give anyone. The freedom to be. Take the time today to be. To listen. Get out of your head – sans tête – (it can be way too noisy in there, I know) and listen. Allow. Become, simply better. This life is delicious! Bon Appétit!