By Tom has started building things for the baby. Not asked. Not prompted. He just shows up on Saturdays with lumber and builds. This week: a bookshelf for the nursery. Small, low to the ground, designed for baby books and stuffed animals. He measured and cut and sanded and assembled in the garage and when he was done he carried it into the nursery and placed it against the wall and stepped back and looked at it and said, "Not bad."
It's beautiful. It's the best bookshelf I've ever seen. It's slightly overengineered — Tom builds everything to survive a tornado because he's an electrician who thinks like a structural engineer — and it will hold the weight of every book the baby will ever own. Tom built a bookshelf for his grandchild and he did it without being asked because building is how Kowalski men love. We wire. We hammer. We build shelves. We don't say the words. We build the shelves.
Linda started knitting. She hasn't knitted since I was a baby — she made me a yellow blanket that I still have, soft from thirty years of washing, tucked in the closet with Babcia's recipe cards. Now she's making another one. For the baby. Same yellow. Same pattern. Same love, stitched into yarn, carried across generations.
Made a pot of minestrone — the spring version, with fresh vegetables from the farmers market. Light, brothy, filled with beans and pasta and whatever the season offers. Not Polish. Universal. The kind of soup that every culture has a version of because every culture needs a pot of vegetables and broth. Megan ate it on the porch while Gerald II watched from the yard. Co-parenting with a groundhog was not in my plan. Nothing has been in my plan. The plan is irrelevant. The life is perfect.
The minestrone was warm and grounding and right for the moment, but afterward — with Tom’s bookshelf standing solid against the nursery wall and Linda’s yellow yarn looped across the couch — I wanted something sweet and bright to close the day. I picked up strawberries at the farmers market without a plan, the way I’ve been doing everything lately, and they turned into this: a strawberry coconut cheesecake salad that tastes like spring decided to show up and stay. Megan approved. Gerald II watched from a suspicious distance.
Strawberry Coconut Cheesecake Salad
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min (plus 30 min chill) | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 lbs fresh strawberries, hulled and halved (or quartered if large)
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened to room temperature
- 1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1 cup sweetened shredded coconut, toasted
- 1 cup mini marshmallows
- 1 cup whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), thawed
- Zest of 1 lime (optional, for brightness)
Instructions
- Toast the coconut. Spread shredded coconut in a dry skillet over medium heat. Stir frequently for 3—4 minutes until golden and fragrant. Transfer to a plate and let cool completely.
- Make the cheesecake base. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese with an electric mixer or by hand until completely smooth, about 2 minutes. Add the powdered sugar and vanilla extract and beat until fluffy and well combined.
- Fold in the whipped topping. Gently fold the whipped topping into the cream cheese mixture until just combined and no streaks remain. Do not overmix — you want to keep it light.
- Add the fruit and mix-ins. Add the strawberries, toasted coconut, and mini marshmallows to the bowl. Fold gently with a spatula until everything is evenly coated. Add lime zest if using and fold once more.
- Chill before serving. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes to let the flavors come together. Serve cold, directly from the bowl or spooned into individual cups.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 320 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 40g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 140mg