Vanilla Tapioca Pudding

July. Sean is mostly asleep now. He wakes for short intervals. He drinks a few sips of broth through a straw. He squeezes my hand. He says my name sometimes. He says the kids' names. He knows who is in the room. He is peaceful. Lucia says the progression is typical. She said we are in the last phase. She said it could be days or could be a few weeks. There is no way to know exactly.

I sleep on the couch. I wake every time he moves. I go to him. I give him water if he wants. I wipe his forehead. I am at the bedside. I am doing this.

Liam continues to sleep on the bed. At Sean's left side. Not on the bed with Sean — beside it, in a sleeping bag on a mattress we dragged down. He wanted to be in the room. I allowed it. He is close. He is quiet. He wakes occasionally. Sean does not stir from Liam's presence. Liam brings his father a drawing every morning and places it on the bedside table. The stack of drawings is growing.

Nora continues to sleep in her own bed upstairs with Grace. Grace sleeps in Nora's room now. Nora wanted it. She asked. Grace said yes. They are fine.

The house smells like broth. I am making broth continuously. There is always a pot on the back burner. I do not make it with any purpose now except that it is what I can do. The simmering reassures me. The reduction of flavor into flavor. The deep of it.

Meghan came Saturday. She brought flowers from her garden. She put them on the bedside table. She sat with Sean for an hour. She said goodbye to him, quietly, in the way Meghan says goodbye. I left them alone. She came out crying. She said "Katie. He heard me." I said "yes." We sat on the porch for forty minutes together, holding hands.

My father came every day this week. Sunday he sat for two hours. He told Sean about a fire from 1987 he had never told him about before — a structure fire in Mattapan where a family had been saved because a neighbor had been awake. My father had been there. My father told Sean the whole story. Sean listened. Sean had his eyes closed. Sean squeezed my father's hand at the end. My father said "Sean. You are one of my sons. Don't forget it." Sean said "Sean." That was his only word. "Sean." Calling to my father. Saying his name. My father cried in the bathroom for five minutes after. He came out. He drank a glass of water. He drove home. My mother said he did not speak on the drive.

I am tired. I am running on very little sleep and a lot of broth. I am present. I am with my husband. I am with my children. I am at home. I am doing it.

The house smelled like broth for weeks, and broth was right for Sean — it was what he could take, what we could give him. But somewhere in those long July nights I started making tapioca pudding too, mostly for Liam and Nora, partly for myself. It was soft and warm and asked nothing of anyone. It was something I could stir at the back of the stove while the broth was going, something the kids would eat without me having to ask. In a season when every act of nourishment felt like love made visible, a bowl of vanilla tapioca pudding was something I could do.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1/3 cup small pearl tapioca (not instant)
3 cups whole milk
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Soak the tapioca. Combine the tapioca pearls and milk in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Let soak for 5 minutes (this helps soften the pearls and prevents clumping).
Begin cooking. Place the saucepan over medium heat and add the salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until the mixture just begins to simmer and the tapioca turns translucent, about 10–12 minutes. Do not let it boil vigorously.
Temper the eggs. In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar until pale and slightly thickened. Slowly ladle about 1/2 cup of the hot tapioca mixture into the egg mixture, whisking constantly, to temper the eggs. Pour the tempered egg mixture back into the saucepan, stirring to combine.
Finish the pudding. Return the saucepan to medium-low heat. Cook, stirring constantly, for another 5–7 minutes until the pudding thickens noticeably and coats the back of a spoon. Remove from heat.
Add vanilla. Stir in the vanilla extract. Let the pudding cool for 5 minutes in the pan, stirring occasionally to prevent a skin from forming.
Serve or chill. Serve warm, or transfer to individual bowls or a covered container and refrigerate for at least 2 hours for a cold, set pudding. Top with whipped cream if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Vanilla Tapioca Pudding — Something Soft for the Quiet Hours