KR BlogKR

Ramzan Notes, Early Evening, Day 12

I am cooking for a small and impromptu group of people. It is my favorite kind of gathering. One that just happens.

Last week on the way home from yoga class I asked my friend Doris, who is also my yoga teacher, if she wanted to come over for dinner. She said, “You should come over, we are making omelets!”

So we went two houses down to Doris’ house and had omelets.

This is how I grew up, going from one house–23 Harmony Cove–to the other–168 Sterling Avenue–several times during the day, eating breakfast at one house, lunch at another, playing in the yard of whichever house I happened to be at.

And neither of these houses were my parents’ house. One belonged to my uncle, the other to my aunt. We lived far away from Winnipeg in the northern part of Manitoba in a town called Jenpeg which I don’t think exists anymore.

Though I’ve discovered there is a Facebook group for people who used to live in Jenpeg.

The internet is bringing back–at least in simulation or simulacrum–things which don’t exist anymore.

This morning as I walked around the house doing chores, I left the front door open, the screen door closed. It brought back to me so sharply the houses of my childhood. 317 River Road. 93 Wilcox. 28 Ranch Trail West.

Ironically I cannot remember the Jenpeg address. That is if we had one.

I do feel like I am suspended in time between places, not really knowing where I am or what I am supposed to be doing.

Tonight, in a few minutes, really, I am supposed to be going to a welcome reception on campus. It is always strange to stand in a room full of people who are sipping a soda, or nibbling on a snack.

Strange as cooking for a group, cooking food you yourself haven’t actually tasted.

But you cook for them, you are with them, because so separated from the world, all you want to do is love.

Today I was sitting in a large meeting of the general faculty. New faculty members were being introduced. When their name was called, they would rise so we could see them and greet them.

Oddly, every time someone’s name was called I found myself wanting to wave my hand and say “I’m over here!”