Chapter 45
Frida Rodriguez ... En Route
May 16, 1993
Paris, France
Fair Kate, who knew you could be such a bossy boots! But it worked. I wrote. So what do you think? Tell me the truth. Only if you like it. No! Tell me the truth no matter what. I know it needs context and explanations. Would anyone besides you want to read this? What’s it even about? Food? Books? War? I tried to mention the library a few different ways. Did it work? I’m not sure about my voice. What about exclamation marks? They were a cardinal no-no in my journalism classes. Confession: They’re my favorite punctuation mark! Hardly a secret, I know!!
I called it “The Ramona Club” because Merjema comes on Sundays now with Lejla. I make variations on the stew depending what’s at the market and after we eat, I read to them. They’re struggling with serious issues, but they still adore Beezus and Ramona. The other night we had a hilarious discussion about who we think we are. Lejla relates to wild child Ramona. No surprise there. Merjema is a responsible Beezus. I want to be a full-fledged Ramona but I have a feeling I’m a little of both. Which one are you?
You know how you said Bumpa will always be at Ye Olde Curiosity Shop as long as the building exists? That got me thinking about other things that hold our memories – like books. Except books aren’t anchored in one place like a building which means you can read a book that holds your memories anywhere. And food. If you can get your hands on the right ingredients, you can eat a dish that holds your memories anywhere too. If memories are inherent to our sense of identity, does that mean it’s possible to reassemble parts of your identity no matter where you are in the world?
Ponderingly yours,
Frida