lunch of champions

I don't usually post on the weekends, but here I am, Saturday and Sunday, throwing out a little something to my faithful readers. (Hi Mom!) I wasn't planning on writing today. In reality, I didn't have much of anything planned. I'm on call for the wards this week, and my pager keeps me in a pretty small radius. (Out to the dock to throw away trash is about as far as I venture.) I spent about an hour sitting outside on Deck 8 yesterday and paid for it with a bit of a wicked sunburn, so I wasn't even planning on going that far. In fact, the most exciting thing I had planned was a deep clean of my bathroom.

I'm happy to report that that task has been accomplished, right down to a freshly washed shower curtain. There are few things I love more than the smell of fresh laundry, so I'll admit that I spent longer than was really necessary re-hanging that thing, taking frequent breaks just to smell it. (Not that I'm crazy or anything. Seriously.)

When I came back out into the cabin, I smelled something that rivaled the fresh laundry scent of the shower curtain. A friend of mine refers to Phil as The Husband of Joy, and right then I couldn't think of anything else to call him. On the desk that doubles as our table was a bowl of fresh potato greens and rice, our all-time favourite dish from Liberia. The HoJ was at the counter, squeezing the last of a pile of oranges into the bowl he was using to make fresh orange juice, and that, my friends, is all you need for a perfect Sunday lunch.

It might not seem like much to you, but on a rainy Sunday in Benin, I got to go back to Liberia, just for a little while. I closed my eyes and saw the country where we fell in love, the broken buildings and torn-up streets. I could almost smell the salt air of the beach where I sat with him and knew that I would say yes if he asked me.

I think that beats a fresh shower curtain any day.