Sven and I made our morning circuit — kitchen, back hallway, front porch, lakefront walk, kitchen again, breakfast for both of us. The same circuit every day for years. The repetition is its own grace. There are people who would find such a routine unbearable, and there are people who would find it salvific. I am the second kind. The routine is the rope I hold in the dark, and the rope is what gets me from one end of a day to the other.
Mamma's hands shake more than they did last month. I do not point it out. I notice. I notice everything. The shake is small — barely visible when she is at rest, more visible when she lifts her coffee cup, most visible when she is trying to thread a needle. She still threads needles. She still bakes. She still calls me on Tuesdays at 10. The hands shake. The shaking does not stop the doing. The doing is what Mamma is.
Karin and I talked Sunday. Stockholm in winter is dark. Duluth in winter is dark. We compared darknesses. We laughed. Karin said: "Linda, do you remember the time Pappa drove us to Two Harbors in a blizzard because Mamma wanted lutefisk?" I said yes. The story unspooled across the phone for twenty minutes. I had forgotten half of it. Karin remembered all of it. The memory was, briefly, complete between us.
I cooked Berry pavlova this week. Crisp meringue base, whipped cream, mixed summer berries. The dessert that looks like more work than it is.
I made the soup. Fifty gallons. I served the soup. A hundred and twelve plates. I came home tired. I came home good-tired. The Thursday tired. The right tired. I sat on the couch with Sven and a glass of wine and I did not move for two hours. The body wants this kind of tired. The body has wanted this kind of tired for thirty years.
I thought about Lars this week. He has been gone since 1979. The grief is old, but it is not gone. The dead do not leave. They just become quieter. Lars at twenty was funny in a particular sideways way that nobody else in the family was funny. He could make Pappa laugh, which nobody could make Pappa do. He has been gone forty-five years. I still hear his laugh sometimes, when Erik is laughing in a particular way, or when Peter accidentally tilts his head the way Lars used to.
It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen.
Mamma used to say: "En människa är vad hon ger." A person is what she gives. She said this in Swedish so often that the phrase still sounds in my head in her voice. I think about it daily. I think about what I have given, and what I have not given, and what is still to give. The accounting is mostly favorable. The accounting is, in some ways, the only accounting that matters.
It is enough.
The pavlova called for mixed summer berries, and I had them — the bright, brief kind that feel like they belong to a different season than the one you’re actually standing in. I made more than I needed, as I always do, and what was left became this jam: simple, quick, honest. Chia seeds do the work that patience used to do. Mamma would have approved of anything that did not waste the fruit.
Easy Berry Chia Seed Jam
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 12
Ingredients
- 2 cups mixed fresh or frozen berries (strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, or blackberries)
- 2 tablespoons chia seeds
- 2 tablespoons maple syrup or honey, adjust to taste
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract (optional)
Instructions
- Cook the berries. Place the berries in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir occasionally and cook for 8–10 minutes, until the berries break down and release their juices. Use the back of a spoon or a fork to mash them to your preferred consistency — chunky or smooth.
- Sweeten and season. Stir in the maple syrup (or honey) and lemon juice. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed. Add vanilla extract if using.
- Add chia seeds. Remove the pan from heat and stir in the chia seeds. Mix well to distribute evenly throughout the fruit.
- Rest and thicken. Let the jam sit for 5 minutes, stirring once or twice. The chia seeds will absorb the liquid and thicken the jam as it cools.
- Cool and store. Transfer to a clean jar or airtight container. Allow to cool to room temperature, then refrigerate. The jam will continue to thicken as it chills. Store in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 35 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 1g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 2mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 433 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.