“In the Beginning…”
Thanksgiving 2016
Dear Sophia,
I’ve been writing to you since
you were born, so it’s natural to pen a note on your second Thanksgiving. It has been gratifying and almost therapeutic
to document all your precious moments and milestones, sending pictures and
videos for you to one day view. It’s my
way of grasping those snippets of time and holding them there, like hitting the
pause button. Time is elusive, Sophia,
and here we are at another Thanksgiving.
Last year I described how you
came into our lives with a flourish and how you’ve been stirring it up ever
since. And boy, you have, with your big
and bright personality, trademark “Anthony” smirk (like you’re always ready for
trouble), joyous and carefree laughter, and insatiable hunger to discover. It’s been a whirlwind of firsts – your first smile,
first roll, first taste of food, first crawl, first stand, first word, first
birthday, first steps, first school picture.
Every new phase has been followed by a reawakening for us, a rekindled
memory, a second chance, a do-over. In
your own way, you’ve helped us find again, to see in a different light, to
essentially change our perspective. And
not only that, we’ve experienced some firsts of our own along the way that
comes with new adventures in parenting.
As we get ready to gather around
the table in our customary fashion, I can’t help but think of these
firsts. Your firsts, these
achievements, our memories, have transformed into the new normal of our
lives. They’ve added substance and
color, enriched our days that were once set in habit and tradition. As you are learning, life is
ever-evolving. Think about how quickly
our paths can diverge and resurface, and on the other hand, how bountiful our
blessings can be – in 2013 we unexpectedly lost your siblings, but then the
following year came cousin Addie, and then you, and this year another addition with
your cousin James. Each of these events
molded us, and in turn, molded you.
Remember those days when you were just sitting up, and your world was at
eye level? It wasn’t long before you
realized how much your universe expanded and changed the minute you could
stand. And there is only more room to
grow and continue on this journey.
This year of firsts also reminds
me of beginnings. I don’t often dwell on
how traditions come about, but they had to have had a starting place,
right? So this year, I’m sharing our
family’s infamous lasagna story.
When I was little, your Nai-Nai
(grandma) used to make a delicious meat lasagna. I remember watching her in the kitchen,
layering the noodles, using a brush to spread the ingredients evenly in
between. Not long after, she taught me
how to make it, and I’m not sure when or how it happened, but soon it had been
passed on to me and became my go-to entrée for parties and get-togethers. So of course, many, many years later when
your dad’s parents invited us over for lunch one summer day when we were first
dating, I decided to turn to my default dish to show off my cooking prowess.
“I make my lasagna with beef. Is that okay?” I asked
your-father-then-boyfriend anxiously, and wanting to ensure there were no food
allergies.
“That should be fine,” he
responded. Little did I know how not fine it would be.
Lunch was served on the deck that
day. I set the casserole dish down on
the table and unwrapped it. “What’s in
it?” my now-mother-in-law inquired.
“Just ground beef,” I answered.
Anthony proceeded to start
cutting. Looking at his mom expectantly,
he asked how big of a slice. “Oh, just a
sliver,” she said.
He went to cut, and she motioned
for a smaller piece. Anthony seemed
annoyed. “Are you on a diet?”
She responded no, but I could
tell something was off.
It wasn’t until we were in the
car on the way back to my apartment when it hit him. “So… uh… my mom’s a vegetarian.”
I was mortified. “But I asked you if it was okay!” was all I
could muster.
And so this went down in Rediger
family history as the first time a
Farng sister made your Mu eat meat. I’ll
have your aunties fill you in on the second and third times…
Apparently, your Mu had not eaten
meat in 30 years, but on that day, she did for me. (And that speaks volumes about your Mu’s
character, so kindhearted, not wanting to upset me).
But this is also when I started
making vegetarian lasagna.
So my sweet girl, this incredible
year of firsts has culminated into the onset of the remarkable story of
YOU. And the story I shared is a part of
the remarkable story of US. One day when
you’re older, and wonder why I no longer make meat lasagnas or why sometimes
you’ll see the vegetarian version on the Thanksgiving table amongst the more
old-fashioned casseroles, there is history there. The story, as with your story, had a
beginning, however embarrassing or comical it was – and we celebrate it,
because it has become a piece of our narrative.
And this tale is particularly special because it entwines our two
families together.
Whenever you’re filled with doubt
or uncertainty, remember this: you’ve given more to us in this first year than
we ever could have imagined, and for that we are forever grateful.
There is so much more ahead of
you. I hope that one day you read this
back and see all that has transpired, and take a moment to relish in those
first accomplishments, when everything felt shiny and new, untouched and
unchartered, simple and straightforward.
This Thanksgiving, we’re thankful
for your firsts and our firsts, recalling how our stories were born, honoring
old traditions as well as new additions, and realizing that sometimes, it’s
worth a pause to think about our humble beginnings.
Love,
Mommy
