Tag Archives: family stories

This morning in the kitchen. . .

Posted in Finding Home, Fun, Life, Love by

This morning Laszlo came into the kitchen still wearing his striped pyjamas. In he hops to grab something from the counter, then out he goes right back into the living room. If I didn’t know that today was special, this would have been a clear sign that something was up. It’s nearly 9 AM.

“Did your dad just get up?” I ask my husband.

“Did Dad just get up?” he asks his mother, Anna.

“He’s been up since 5 AM running around the house,” she replies, “fixing the garage, taking a shower, shaving and getting tidy. He’s just too excited to change his clothes.”

I made my banana mixed with nut butter breakfast and sat down at the table with Anna and Zsolt. The topic of Zsolt’s cousin’s recent engagement comes up. We all heard about it through Facebook, with pictures off the ‘will you marry me’ spelled out in candles included. It looks like it was a very sweet proposal. I guess they’re now engaged! It’s wonderful, but also bizarre to think she’s at the age of marriage. In my mind, everyone stays much, much younger than me. But apparently I’m getting older, and a new generation is getting married.

Laszlo appears in the doorway, but this time he doesn’t come into the kitchen. I wonder if he noticed that I noticed he’s still in his pyjamas. He begins talking to Zsolt, and I watch him through the yellow glass-panel kitchen door. His hands are moving quickly, but not widely.

“He’s won five dollars in the lottery,” explains Zsolt.

“So that’s a good sign for a good day,” I reply. But of course that’s not why he’s so excited. His pyjama-wearing, running about excited because today is the day he will pick up his new car. This is a car that’s been discussed for many years now, and they’ve finally been able to go forward with the purchase. After two weeks of delays in the car being delivered – today is THE DAY.

AND he’s just won five dollars in the lottery. Never mind that he also spends five dollars a week on lottery tickets. 🙂

Laszlo keeps talking.

“He needs to go into our bedroom to get some paperwork,” explains Zsolt.

The room is a mess. I’ve literally only started tidying it that very morning, but then abandoned the effort for some breakfast. The mess I’m most concerned about is my pile of underwear where the laundry hamper should be, which also happens to be right by the paperwork.

“Okay,” I say. Because you know, the man needs his paperwork.

Laszlo disappears.

Anna and Zsolt begin to stretch and yawn at the same time. It’s absolutely adorable. They’re slowly raising their arms about their heads and yawning it out. I like how much Zsolt and his parents enjoy each others company. Subconscious imitation is a strong form of flattery and interest. So, this is darn tooting cute, and I reckon a showcase of love.

“Should we give them an engagement card?” I ask Zsolt.

“Should we give them an engagement card?” he asks his mother.

“It’s not needed,” replies Anna. “Engagements are for the close family. When I was a girl, people would gather each side of the family for the engagement – but just the closest family – and there would be a dinner between the two group. Then, at that dinner the guy would give the girl a ring, and they would be officially engaged.”

(She says something to this measure. Zsolt is our translater between Hungarian and English. These “” are approximate, but close enough.)

Zsotl and I definitely didn’t do this. We were engaged on the Isle of Wright in England, and our families were on different sides of the world. But still, it was memorable.

Suddenly our conversation around proposals stops as we hear Zsolt’s father on the phone in the other room.

Oh no.

No.

Ohhhh.

Anna is ready to jump out of her chair, but Zsolt manages to keep her still.

We listen.

Yep.

The car is delayed.

And so ends the morning of excitement, romance, and pyjamas. Next time I see Laszlo, as he comes into the kitchen to explain the phone call, he’s wearing his normal clothes. We will have to wait once again, it seems. But hey, the car is coming. And it might be here this afternoon. Here’s hoping the lottery ticket really was a sign of a lucky day. If nothing else, we are all together here as a family in Pecs, Hungary. While I can’t actually bring that up in the middle of the ‘car isn’t here’ disappointment – it is nevertheless true, and it is also a very lovely thing.

The end. For now.

P.S.

Here’s an update 🙂

Laszlo Car and Zsolt

The Power of a Pause – stories from Zsolt’s grandmother

Posted in Fun, Life, Love, Travel by

This past Saturday we piled into the car and drove across town to visit with Zsolt’s grandmother, Anna for a chat and to pick some fruit. She’s his grandmother on his mother’s side. I met her about 9.5 years ago, when, while visiting Hungary, the ‘grandmothers’ would come by for a meal. By grandmothers, I’m referring to Zsolt’s grandmothers and aunt Zsuzsi – who I may write about one of these days, because she’s quite the character.

Anyhow, back then and for much of the time since, I didn’t really get to chat with Anna. Fact is, we speak different languages, and Zsolt’s dad’s side off the family are very much gregarious show stealers. Hilarious people! His gran, Gyongyi, was always fretting about being old and Zsuzsi was always telling her latest story from wandering around town and having no sense of personal space.

Anna was far more quiet. She would sit across the table from me, on the very far side and only occasionally – and calmly – ask a question that Zsolt might translate.

wine_thief

Then a few years ago she moved to a new home, and we suddenly began to pay her visits there. Her house once belong to her grandson, who has quite the green thumb. The yard is a literal orchard of white peaches, sour cherries, apples, berries and more. It’s not even that big – it’s just incredibly well designed. So we go and sit in the garden, and she makes lovely food that I don’t eat – but think looks really, really delicious.

Inside of Anna’s house, where we migrate whenever it begins to rain, is a real treasure of stories. Her walls are covered with carefully preserved photographs from her days as a school girl, and her wedding, and her children (including Zsolt’s mom), and more. And, her sofas are covered with finely embroidered pillow cases – with or without the pillows inside. That was her profession, she grew up doing embroidery and had an incredible talent with the needle.

Everyone sits around the large table in the center of the room – the old family table – and politely chit chats about the weather, the amount of snow in Canada, their sore joints, some family gossip . . . and then, if we stay there long enough, someone like Zsolt’s uncle or aunt may show up, and the chit chat happens again – until eventually, it doesn’t. People go out to pick fruit, or turn to one another for more quiet chatting.

Zsolt and I are left there sitting beside his grandmother, Anna. And now, the real conversation can begin.

Anna has a very special talent beyond caring for her home, sewing and the garden. She’s an excellent multilingual conversationalist. Nope, she doesn’t speak a bit of English. But what she’s very good at is knowing when to pause.

Zsolt will look at me, then ask in english: What should I ask her? So I say, ask her about her garden. And then he does. Anna will reply, and then she will pause so that Zsolt can translate to me. Then, the stories somehow unfurl from there, and as she tells each piece of the story, she’ll pause and Zsolt can translate.

Normally folks go on for 5 minutes, and then I get the 5 word translation because big Z can’t remember what they were saying. With Anna it is so wonderfully different.

During our last visit, I asked Anna whether she makes palinka (a kind of very strong fruit alcohol) from the abundance of fruit in her garden. She explained that her children gather the fruit to make palinka, but she personally has no use for it.

Oh really? I ask – as Zsolt translates everything – Why is that?

She really just has no use for drinking alcohol. She’s never cared.

Oh, I reply. Me neither! I just don’t care about it. I’ve always thought this was a genetic thing I got from my mother.

Now Zsolt explains his stance on alcohol, that he doesn’t ever drink it at home because I never do, but when out with friend he’ll definitely have some drinks.

Then, Anna explains that her father loved his drink. They had so many grapes and wine all around them, there was an abundance of it. Her family always had alcohol on the family dining table, and when folks visited, they were always sent away with a bottle of wine from the vineyard. It was as plentiful as the bottled water we have today.

And Anna, when she was little, used to go to that dining table and pour herself little sips of the palinka and the wine – just quick tastes. She’d do it whenever it pleased her, and no one ever noticed, because there was so much of it!

And as she tells this, we can picture her as a little girl sneaking into the room and pouring herself a quick shot of drink. And suddenly we know her a little bit deeper. We know her beyond her age and status as a grandmother, beyond the eye surgery she just had, or how she becomes tired very easily these day. We know her story, just a little bit more.

All of this because she pauses, and in turn, I can ask questions.

It’s a lovely think to chat with Anna. In those moment, I don’t feel the language divide. I just feel like family.