my new friend from the climbing gym is a kind person. he's very social. sometimes really loud and very white which are usually energies i struggle to match with. but somehow we've become good friends. sometimes he just shows up at our place. and as much as that can be overwhelming, i realized how much i miss that recently. people showing up because they can and want to. that is so rare in america, specifically in white american culture.
i was always around people growing up. most of the time it was exclusively my dad's male friends but the saturdays were for all my aunties. saturday was the one day my mom was home so the aunties came through. they would take over the kitchen chopping apples and mangoes, making batches and batches of chiya: black and milk, with and without sugar and nasta for the batches and batches of men in the living room and the rest of us. i would make several trips to gulmeli uncle's grocery store to restock on milk. he'd lie about running out after the fourth pack.
the aunties would sit in the sun and eat aap, saadeko bhogate, malpuwa aloo. they took turns to oil us kids first then oil each other's hair, cut and dry vegetables in the sun to make achaar out of everything. we gave and received massages. in the afternoon, we would bring out all the carpets and curtains to the verandah and wash them together. sliding on the foam on the wet carpet and seeing who got further was a legit tournament on saturdays.
aunties taught me chores can be communal, festive even. they showed me saturdays are for sharing. that feels so far away now. both in place and time. at home, fewer people drop by. someone is specifically employed for chores. i never have to attend guests when i'm home. i am the guest. the uncles drive cars. it's hard to fit their vehicles in our crammed neighborhood. no one takes the bus if they don't have to. they just stopped coming. aunties stopped coming too. they're exhausted from missing all their kids abroad. most of them work and work. i'm learning now that being an aunty is to dwell in leisure. it is the act of making so much to do seem like there was nothing to do. at home, and technically everywhere we're missing the aunties.
here things aren't any brighter. i live in california with my younger brother. it's been months since i worked a real job. i have so much time to embrace my aunty self and i am ashamed. i'm disappointing all my aunties seeming like an aunty and failing miserably at actually being one. i hate doing chores. cooking can be so hard and chaotic. dishes pile up the kitchen sink for days. i eat a version of toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner. saturdays are solitary not by choice. i'm sad and lonely not by choice. everyone of us is busy. we need a break. i best not call my friends on saturdays!
but the other day at almost 11 pm on saturday my friend showed up. i had just come back from the gym too but the second he arrived, in fifteen minutes, i had fried tofu and mushrooms, and made this extensive bowl of ramen with okay -leftover- broth but still. all while also sharing about my shitty day. as i hand him his dinner he goes, "you're actually too kind." i shrug it off. i've just been so lonely and deeply nostalgic of my aunties. i'll take anything that will make me feel remotely aunty in this aunty-less aunty-phobic world. it takes a minimum of two people to be aunty. biggest thank yous for stopping by.
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