Bread

I love the earthy smell of the yeast as it mixes with lukewarm water. I love watching the sponge change from water, yeast, honey and flour into a frothy, bubbling, bowl of life. I love working the gooey mess first with a wooden spoon and then with my hands. I love the way the dough transforms into a smooth, fragrant ball, simply because I knead it back and forth across the counter. I love the way flour dusts everything I am wearing. I love the way it makes me stay at home for an afternoon, instead of rushing off to here or there. I love the smell that consumes the kitchen as I pull the tray from the oven. Most of all, I love eating, eating, eating.

As many before have pointed out, creating bread is a type of meditation. I am hopeless at sitting still and thinking. Kneading bread gives my hands something to do while my mind wanders. My thoughts, as they usually do, started drifting towards Dad. He, Jasper and Mom called me from a sunny park in San Francisco this afternoon. Tonight Dad has an MRI, tomorrow morning a meeting with a neuro-oncologist. It feels strange to not be with them. I'm not sure I have ever missed a major family vacation, especially spring break (usually filled with mountain biking, skiing, or rafting). Yet I have class and tests this week, and in two weeks when I have my own spring break I'm heading up to an organic farm.

It sometimes feels like living a double life. On one side, I am your typical almost 19 year old college student. I go out and get drunk on St Patrick's Day when I really should be studying. I get angry at "the man", frustrated with the government, and complain about boring gen eds. I love the town I am going to school in and want to try everything and do everything I possibly can. I still believe I can change the world in some way, however small. I worry about boyfriends. I worry about friends in general. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do with my life and who I want to do it with.

On the other hand, I'm a daughter and a sister.  On the logical level, I know I am doing the right thing by being in college out of state and doing what I love. Yet I don't want to miss a moment of my family as four. A small part of me feels guilty and selfish for staying in Montana and having fun when I could be going home for the weekend and spending time with Dad. I am trying to create a new life in Missoula and sustain my normal family life in Moscow, and sometimes it is all just too much.

So I turn off the cell phone, log out of facebook, put on sweatpants, and bake bread. And you know what? It helps.