February. The month that tests. But this year February is different because every month is different, every month is the month in which Paul's body takes another step away from the body I married, and the steps are steady and unstoppable and I am a nurse who knows the trajectory and a wife who refuses to look at the destination.
Paul's voice is notably softer now. Conversations require leaning in. Across the dinner table, I have to ask him to repeat. He repeats. He doesn't get frustrated — not visibly. Paul's frustration, if it exists, lives in a place I can't see, behind the patience he's been cultivating for sixty-one years.
I moved my chair closer to his. At the table, in the living room, everywhere. The distance between us has shortened because the volume of his voice has shortened and I will close whatever distance is necessary to hear him.
The communication device is still in the closet. I mentioned it on Tuesday — gently, as a suggestion, as a "just in case." Paul said, "I can still talk, Linda." I said, "I know. But—" He said, "When I can't talk, we'll use it. Not before." I dropped it. He's right. Let him talk while he can. The device will be there when the voice isn't.
Elsa and I have established a routine. She comes at six PM. She makes dinner (her camp rice, or soup, or sometimes just sandwiches — Elsa is not a fancy cook). She reads to Paul for an hour. She cleans up. She leaves at nine. Three hours, five nights a week. On the other two nights, I do everything alone, and the alone nights are harder, but they're mine, and the solitude of caregiving at night — just me and Paul and Sven and the monitor — has its own intimacy.
I made Valentine's cards this week. By hand. Not because I'm artistic — I'm not, Paul is the card-maker in this family — but because Paul can't make them anymore and the tradition deserves to continue even if the hands have changed. I made a card for Paul: a drawing of the Kenwood house (badly drawn — Paul's influence is limited) with a heart over the kitchen. Inside: "You are still my home. Love, Linda."
I gave it to him on Valentine's Day. He looked at it. He looked at me. He said, softly, "Linda." Just my name. Just the sound of my name in his quieter voice, the voice that used to fill a classroom and now fills a room. My name was enough. My name was everything.
I made heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast because the holiday demanded it, even in this house, even in this year. Swedish pancakes, thin, cut with a heart-shaped cookie cutter. Paul ate two, pureed with lingonberry sauce. Heart-shaped, pureed, fed with a spoon.
Love. The strangest shapes. The most impossible textures. Still love.
The heart-shaped Swedish pancakes I made that Valentine’s morning were the version I carried in my memory — but the recipe I keep coming back to now, the one I make on the quieter mornings when I want something that feels like effort without being performance, is this one. Zucchini waffles are soft inside, easy to modify in texture, and they hold a shape — and some mornings, holding a shape is enough. Paul can’t always tell me in words when something tastes right, but he finishes his plate, and that is its own language.
Zucchini Waffles
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 medium zucchini, grated (about 2 cups)
- 1/2 teaspoon salt, divided
- 2 large eggs, beaten
- 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
- 1 tablespoon olive oil (plus more for waffle iron)
- Sour cream or Greek yogurt, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Drain the zucchini. Place grated zucchini in a colander, sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon salt, and let sit 5 minutes. Squeeze out as much moisture as possible using a clean kitchen towel or paper towels — the drier the better, or the waffles will be soggy.
- Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine the drained zucchini, beaten eggs, flour, Parmesan, garlic powder, onion powder, pepper, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and olive oil. Stir until evenly combined.
- Preheat the waffle iron. Heat a standard or Belgian waffle iron to medium-high and lightly brush the plates with olive oil.
- Cook the waffles. Spoon about 1/3 cup of batter onto the center of the waffle iron, close the lid, and cook 4–5 minutes until golden brown and crisp on the outside. Repeat with remaining batter.
- Serve warm. Transfer waffles to a plate and serve immediately with sour cream, Greek yogurt, or a soft-poached egg on top. For a softer texture, let rest 2 minutes under a loose tent of foil before serving.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 135 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 340mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 148 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.