Getting ready for Wigilia is a multi-day affair. We actually began a couple of weeks ago by preparing an absolute truckload of pierogi and uszki for the dinner as well as the zakwas for the barszcz This morning K put the dried mushrooms to soak just before she began the vegetable stock for the barszcz (carrots, parsnips, celery, a couple of turnips, some prunes and an apple) and the beets themselves were roasting in the oven. As I was grating the roasted beets, she was preparing the crust for the cygan.As I cleaned up the mess we’d made, K was chopping the massive amount of dried fruit (mainly prunes, dried apricots, and raisins) cygan requires. As K was melting the butter, chocolate, and sugar to mix in with the dried fruit, I looked for recipes for spanakopita. A bit of a mixed morning.
In the afternoon? I’m sure K finished the cygan, and she was going to make a rolada, one of the Girl’s favorite desserts, for L. That was the plan. I’ve no pictures of that process, though, because I was with the Girl in the hospital. We arrived at twelve as instructed. At 3:30, the surgeon still hadn’t met with us.
“Things are running behind,” the nurse said. “That happens.”
True enough. Medicine, though, is the only industry for which we have this kind of patience. Everywhere else, we would have long ago gotten up and left. “We’ll take our business elsewhere.” Not such an option for surgery.
Finally, a little before four, they wheel the Girl back for her minor procedure: a deviated septum which has contributed to never ending sinus problems for our poor girl. The day before Wigilia is hardly the best time for surgery, but we have to fit it in wherever we can between volleyball, winter/indoor track, work, school, and everything else that crowds the Girl’s calendar. After waiting over three hours in preop, the Girl gets wheeled to the OR, and I head to the waiting room for more waiting.
It seems somehow appropriate that the last Wigilia that L is living at home is so wonky. It gets us thinking about how it’s so different from every other Wigilia and so similar at the same time. We spent the day not preparing as a family, and we go into Wigilia not even knowing how L will feel a day after surgery — will she even want to sit at the table? (Not really a serious worry.) And yet Wigilia will be the same as it always is, as is my post about it: the timelessness of tradition in the midst of an ever-changing world for our family. Next Wigilia, L will be coming home from college, probably with a big list of foods she wants K to prepare and a big bag of laundry. It’s always been this way: all the same, never the same.
