gifts from our market

“if we are always arriving and departing, it is also
true that we are eternally anchored.  one's destination
is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.”
― henry miller

few things are so pleasant as hand picking one rainbow painted heirloom tomato amidst hundreds of its sisters, smelling the bold and complex sweetness of a peach ripening in the sun, breathing in the homegrown earthiness of a single smoky poblano pepper, exchanging smiles at the proud parents of an ear of corn while adopting it for your own, and then getting the chance to slowly prepare a meal with these treasures for those you love.  all of this after having meandered around one's local market for the duration of a lazy saturday afternoon, while feeling the rise and fall of your baby girl's chest as she is carried snug to your body.  perhaps pleasant doesn't sufficiently describe an experience so exquisite as this.       

we used to live 250 steps due south from the cobblestones that lead to the river market where we would spend our weekends inhaling roasting espresso beans and the intoxicating perfume of bread baking in an nearby oven.  

it was/is one of our little gems, this market.  back then, it was "our place".  even though on an average day it was packed with dozens, even hundreds, of kansas citians, and was flogged by the city's tourism center, it was somehow special and ours.  a secret space we kept hidden away, only to be delightfully re-discovered every weekend when we would take mister leon there during his long awaited walk.  the feeling we got when at this market was akin to what an explorer would feel when seeing a new shoreline from a distant telescope, and then stepping foot on that precious, uncharted land for the first time.  although this comparison seems quite stretched and far-fetched, the innocent yet sincere sense of discovery we perceived when there and the excitedness it fostered within us upon each visit, i suppose, could be similar. 

never having to find a parking place was a real treat.  we could walk over the bridge, through the park, and to the vegetable stands to buy all the ingredients to whip up some spicy salsa, then leisurly walk home through the maze of cars parked in any space large enough to fit a motorbike.  we felt special not having to take the normal route to buy our produce.  perhaps that's why this space seemed so distinctive to us and significantly ours.  

now we are one of those cars that has to circle the market for at least a half and hour before finding a space.  however, after parking and re-familiarizing ourselves with the area and of course taking note at all the changes, we feel it appropriate to soak in every drop of the the sentimental air that this market evokes.  we cling to that nostalgic feeling and take the time to splash in those reminiscent puddles.

we are at a different but better place in our lives, a place where we have the opportunity to share the specialness of this gem with our little one who is eager to participate and learn about life.  we get to show her the beauty in locally grown food and the importance of giving back to the community.  

sharing our stories and amazing experiences with our daughter is the best possible thing this market has given us.  the ability to think back and smile is also a lovely gift we have unintentionally received.  even though it takes us more like 43 blocks and not 250 steps, we still consider this place special and hold it close to our hearts.  we will always be "arriving and departing," like henry miller says, but also forever "eternally anchored".  and when we depart, it will always be with the beautiful components of our evening's meal.  

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