Recently, I have been playing house. Since moving to the Twin Cities, I have been living with my friends’ family. They are so generous and kind. I am learning the gift of generosity by receiving theirs. This past week, they have been traveling around Asia. That leaves just me, . . . oh yeah, and another college student whom they are also extending the gift of hospitality to. Together, we are playing house. It’s quite surreal. I do house like things. Each day, there is some new task: I get the mail, do some laundry, start the dish-washer, water the plants, and so on. Sometimes, I also dabble in the cleaning. I scrub a toilet or get out the Hoover machine thing and sweep the kitchen floor. Just dabbling, really.
We have each also done a bit of cooking. I made pizza last night; it was pepperoni and cheesy and delicious. And unlike many pizzas in China, this one had sauce on it. Lots of it. And on Sunday, the room-mate made a pot-roast and vegetable dish in the crock pot. Between the two of us, we have plenty of left-overs. They are neatly stacked in Tupperware in the fridge or neatly tucked into plastic bags. I feel happy to open the fridge and look at the neat little stacks and marvel at how fun it is to play house. And while it feels very new and temporary to play house in America, I am just trying to enjoy the moments because they really are the things of life.