In Search of my Soul

 Back to school. Back to work. New apartment. New ward. New People. And I feel like I'm drowning slowly. I miss the mountains, I miss my children, I miss knowing everyone and I miss mon etoile. I don't really feel like meeting new people and I don't want to be social. So I decided I needed to do some soul searching. I am taking some time to figure myself out. I don't really know what that means, but that's what I'm doing. So here is a delicious and not too difficult Thai recipe for anyone else who might be soul searching and getting a little hungry on the way.
 Panang Curry Recipe
Ingredients

• 3 large chicken breasts,
• 1-2 tbsp Panang Curry Paste (depending on how spicy you like it)
• 4 cups coconut milk
• 8-10 kaffir lime leaves, very finely chopped
• some salt
• 3 tbsp brown sugar
• 3 tbsp fish sauce
• 2 bell peppers- red, orange or yellow, cut into thin julienne strips and halved 
• 8-10 cups cooked rice

Preparation

1. Wash the chicken and cut into thin, bite size pieces, and fry until barely done.
2. Heat 2 cups of coconut milk over medium heat until the oil surfaces. Add curry paste, stir constantly for 2 minutes until fragrant and red oil surfaces. Add the chicken, and cook for a further 2 minutes or until done. Add the remaining coconut milk.
3. Season to taste with salt, fish sauce and sugar. Reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes or until chicken is thoroughly cooked. Add lime leaves and bell peppers and let simmer for 5 minutes. 
4. Spoon 1-2 cups rice in each bowl and top with curry. Eat. Ponder life. And read this sad story. 
 

Some Sad Story

I woke up to light streaming through the window and onto my bed. I rolled to my side and stared at the empty space next to me. I sighed deeply and sat up. I still felt empty in the mornings, and very alone. I forced myself out of bed and grabbed my mat and rolled it onto the floor next to my bed. I slipped on some loose shorts and a t shirt and peeled off my socks. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe deeply as I began my yoga routine. I tried to empty my mind and concentrate on my body and the sound of my breath. But every time I tried to relax I could see his face; smiling, frowning, concentrating and every face in between. I continued my routine but with little peace and finally gave up when I went into shavasna, knowing I would not relax. I stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter surveying the fruits and vegetables that sat lazily on the wood. Lemons. Today was a lemon day. When I felt most helpless and bleak, I used lemons. They were a bright and fresh fruit that could add something to pretty much any dish.I flipped through my recipe cards until I found a wrinkled scrap of paper that I had scribbled a recipe for muffins on when I was in college. I turned on some music and began to bake.

 I loved cooking, it was my personal therapy and the only time I felt happy during the day. I had spent a lot of time cooking the past 2 months. A year ago I could not tell a strainer from a saucepot and I thought that rosemary was a type of flower. The first week that Ben and I were married I managed to burn macaroni and cheese on the stove and start a fire in the oven with a frozen pizza. I remember Ben coming home from school and just laughing as I tried to explain why I had to throw away the new pot we had gotten at our reception because I had assumed that the macaroni would never come off. He sat down on the couch and let me curl up in his lap and cry about my domestic failure. He assured me that he still loved me, that he did not regret marrying me and that he would help me. Ben was a wonderful cook, and for two weeks after my disaster I didn't touch anything in the kitchen except to do dishes. He would wake up early before he had to go to work just to cook me an omelette and we would eat late at night because Ben would cook dinner after he came home from school. Little by little I overcame my fear of the kitchen and one afternoon I walked all the way to the lab where Ben worked to make him taste the cookies I had made. They were a little overdone but he assured me that he always liked crunchy cookies better.

 Those cookies were just the start, day by day I spilled less oil, burned fewer sauces and remembered which pans to use with what recipe. After one month of marriage I was a regular housewife; with spaghetti on the table when Ben came home and waffles cooking in the morning as we both got ready. I had been worried that since I had already finished school and only had a part time job that I would be bored with Ben gone all day. But cooking gave me something to do, something to experiment with and something to make me feel accomplished. 

I looked at the fluffy, lemon blueberry muffins in the oven and reflected on how far I had come in the past 6 months. I gazed over my tiny  house and smiled. It was a run down cottage out in the country but I had outfitted it with a state of the art kitchen when I had moved in 3 months ago. The bedroom, living room and kitchen were all one room with a little closet bathroom in one corner. Everyone thought I was crazy when they heard I moved here, but since I had not talked to any of them in the past month I didn't really care anymore. 

I sat down at the counter and sipped lemon water and ate my muffin in silence. I felt weak this morning, like I did not want to have self control. So though i knew it might destroy me, I reached under my bed and pulled out my wedding photo album. I got 4 photos in before I noticed I was crying, but I didn't stop. Ben was smiling so big, and I looked so happy. My hair was still long and my eyes didn't have the hollow look they had taken on in recent weeks. Ben looked perfect, he always looked perfect but in these photos especially he looked wonderful. He looked almost as wonderful as the last time I saw him walking out the door. His hair was still sticking up in the back as he gave me kiss, grabbed his backpack and told me he loved me so much. It was a day just like any other. When the hospital called 30 minutes later I was in the shower and had to listen to that frightening message in my bathrobe. I dashed to the hospital and was met by Ben's older brother and his wife. They tried so hard to comfort me but it was already too late. I was a widow after 3 months of being married. 

I snapped the photo album closed and returned to my muffin. But today, even lemons were not enough to stop the pain.