Three Things and Three More | Volume 3
to fall into place, to settle, to become understood, or to take hold
Three Things and Three More is an every-other-month(ish) newsletter with three bitesized (probably unrelated) essays and three quick (also probably unrelated) things I want to share with you.
Three Things
Car Wash Auntie
On a hot day in August
Music thumps from a car radio
The beating bass
The melodic words
Weave together with the birdsong
And the beaming sun rays
Our hips swayOur shoulders bob
We hum
To the triumphant beat
The green on the leaves has almost given out
—nearly spent, sharing all it can
Before the oranges and browns take over
Rounding the corner, and there she is:
The unexpected source of the music
Her floral patterned shalvar
Her crocheted headscarf
The crinkles along her forehead
All four car doors are open
And she is reaching her arm as far as she can
Across the back windshield
Swiping away a layer of dirt
We catch her attention
And she lifts a soapy hand in greeting
We smile back
She sings to the pop song
And the grime rolls down the bumper
And back to the earth
Washed away by the care of an auntieJA OFTADAN
Farsi | جا افتادن | [jah-ohf-tah-dan]1. a culinary concept where food is simmered over low heat with a strong, oily base for several hours, resulting in tender, flavorful dishes
2. (lit.) to fall into place
3. (colloq.) to settle, to become understood, or to take hold
4. the belief that if you’re feeling left behind, there is ja oftadan—the art of letting go and slowing down, knowing that everything good takes timeInspiration
Sunlight stretching across the floorboards/ a hot cup of coffee in that old chipped mug/ the mourning dove’s sad call/ my neighbor’s rooster/ my daughter’s curls/ my husband’s laughter/ humble confessions in comment sections/ unexpected turns of a phrase in a book/ a much-needed walk outside/ the puddles on the cobblestone after a rainstorm/ distant, rolling thunder/ the old man selling band-aids at the outdoor market/ the barista with the polka dot nails/ the soft tendrils of smoke from the bakery/ the crinkle of wind through the branches of the olive tree/ the woman across the street who gives us cherries/ Mary Oliver/ Raffi/ book dedications/ a new recipe/ ache/ longing/ anger/ layovers/ hellos and goodbyes/ unanswered prayers/ unfulfilled dreams/ the tightrope of limbo in which we live/ the planting of hope again and again
And Three More
One Book I’m Reading:
What can I say about Against the Loveless World by Susan Abulhawa other than: Nahr rocks. She’s easily one of the most memorable protagonists I’ve come across in a long time. The story follows Nahr (who also goes by Almas and Yaqoot), a Palestinian refugee and political prisoner, who sits in solitary confinement in an Israeli prison cell and recounts how she got there. It’s a heartbreaking novel in so many ways, but one that needs to be read.
(There’s definitely some graphic sexual scenes, so fair warning, if you’re a sensitive reader.)One Meal I’m Making
The outside temperatures have been sitting uncomfortably in the triple digits this past month, and we have no AC in our house, so suffice to say, there was close to zero cooking happening in the kitchen. One meal that has gotten us through is Ina Garten’s Summer Garden Pasta. Aside from boiling the pasta, all other ingredients are uncooked. Quick. Easy. Non-sweaty. Heaven.One Thing I Want You to Know:
This is the part where I usually share something important that’s happening in the world, some conflict or injustice we should be aware of. But you know what? It’s hot. The world is burning. We are all carrying too many heavy things. How about something a little lighter to close out our summer?
(Disclosure: This article is very niche and will probably only interest my nerdy writer friends.)
Enter this beautiful mix of poet Mary Oliver and, well, Olive Garden.1 The image of toasted ravioli bringing in a gentle solace is just what I need to get me through the rest of 2023.
I love the image of car wash auntie!
I would ABSOLUTELY eat at Mary Oliver Garden.