Photo by: @Omra-Sky - Sony Handycam
Pasta. So simple. So much a part of my life. It's so usual, that I don't spend much time thinking about it. I mean really thinking about it. But, when I do really think about it, my thoughts also take me to a backyard. A backyard with clotheslines.
You see, my maternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in the 1930's(I think). I never got the opportunity to know them. All I have are pictures and the stories my mom has shared. Her father died when she was still a child and her mother died shortly after I was born. There's a picture hanging in my parents house of my grandmother cradling me in her arms. She's just looking down at me with this big, proud smile on her face. Someone recently asked me what's the earliest memory I have. I swear I can remember her staring down at me.
They lived a simple life. Food was always fresh. Home-grown and home-made whenever possible. Especially pasta. She always made her own pasta. The best part...she would dry the long noodles on clotheslines in the backyard. It makes me smile to picture a bunch of pasta swaying in the breeze.
I hope I get to really meet her some day.
Thanks to @MarianneWest for hosting this daily freewrite!
To join the fun, here's today's prompt: @mariannewest/day-40-5-minute-freewrite-prompt-pasta
