I Miss You Like Bread

 

 "Mi manchi come il pane." - Italian expression

 

It is Easter Sunday, the second year that we have been unable to gather around the table to share the most joyous of holidays.  I love the season of Easter, it is a magical time no matter what your religious leanings are.  My Jewish friends are celebrating Passover. My Hindu friends are celebrating Holi. Most every major religion celebrates a spring holiday, but even absent religion, it is a wonderful time of the year.  Our grey winter is blossoming into a glorious spring, the snowdrops and buttercups have risen from the ground, daffodils are rising steadily and the trees are budding.  The Easter story that is the basis for my family celebration is a joyful reminder of hope and renewal - conquered death and life everlasting. 

 

It is disappointing that once again we are unable to gather for our normal Easter celebrations but it is a bit easier this year than last.  Jacob is home for the weekend and it is a beautiful day today, warm enough that we will be able to walk over to my sister's home for a distanced, outdoor visit. Our usual Good Friday dinner took on it's own shape this year, prepared and delivered from home-to-home.  My friend Marg surprised me with risotto, a loving gesture that meant a lot to me.  Baking, cooking, knitting and crocheting, trading books and puzzles are the ways we show one another these days just how much we are loved and missed.  It has become more and more difficult to find the words.

Last weekend I got a call from a young friend. Steve is just a few years older than Jacob and I think of him as one of my kids.  For a few years, he was my professional protege.  Our personal relationship has continued long after our formal mentoring relationship ended.  I watched Steve grow into a mature man, a husband, father and successful professional.  We used to have lunch every few months, but of course, once the pandemic came, there were no more catch-up lunches.  I was so happy to hear his voice when I picked up the phone last weekend.  Steve's family is Italian and he often peppers his conversation with Italian words and phrases.  After we got caught up with each other's news, we started to talk about how we were feeling about this strange time of isolation.  "Mi manchi come il pane", he said to me and realizing I didn't understand the phrase, translated for me.  "I miss you like bread."

 

For a week I've been rolling that phrase around in my head.  They are the very words that describe the void I have been trying to fill with baking, cooking and knitting.  They are the words that perfectly articulate the gaping hole left by the physical distance between us.  I miss you like bread. Happy Easter!