Faites de beaux rêves, my dear Julia
I'm in a melancholy mood today. I was on the computer tonight, reading an email that Dan had forwarded to me, an article on the NY Times about Julia Child. The TV had been left on after watching the BBC nightly news, suddenly a hoarse, high-pitched voice came booming out of it.
“Toda-ay we are going to poach a chicken in wine and aromatic vegetable.”
It was unmistakably Julia, I was drawn to the TV. She was there, in a bright purple shirt with her ever present apron and a tea towel tucked into her waist band, towering over her dear friend Jacques Pepin, beaming admiringly at him hacking away at a hapless chicken.
And I burst into tears.
I've been far too busy with my life, I was sad when I heard she had passed away, but not too much, as I knew she'd had a full and wonderful life--one which any of us would be lucky to live. I have not taken the time to mourn her properly.
Tonight, here I am, at home alone, eating a simple meal of cheese, saucisson sec and bread, crying salty tears for my friend, my teacher, my inspiration.
Bon voyage Julia. Faites de beaux rêves.