Under the Consistent Sun

Photos by Michael Piazza / Styled by Catrine Kelty

Y’all. The sun is out.

Consistently.

I know, I know. It happens every year. But you have to admit—this past year has been a reminder to be thankful for the little things. Even the weather is a reason to celebrate.

Do you remember back in the Spring issue, when I asked you about what had sustained you through 2020? What, or who, came to mind?

For me, finding those little things to celebrate when our traditional ones became inaccessible made a big difference. Connection shifted from doing so out of routine or obligation into connecting simply because we are human. When I think of last summer, I’m reminded of the daily FaceTime calls to my mom, sneaking in a hand-holding session with my friends on Castle Island or picking sugar snap peas in the rain. Moments like these brought joy, and encouraged me to be more present in the everyday. Instead of reserving celebrations for special occasions, I made choices to see happiness not as a reward, but just as something that … is. Coming to understand celebration as the foundation of sustainability continues both to answer many questions for me, and to ask many more.

And now, here we are, coming back together under the consistent sun. We’ve spent hours upon hours conversing about things like I just mentioned, at a distance, and now as we share more intimate spaces once again, we’re figuring out how to apply what we’ve learned in real time. I imagine it hasn’t been easy. There’s been so much emphasis on returning to normal without accounting for the undeniable changes that have taken place within and outside of ourselves. We’re meeting up for brunch and work and first dates and graduations, all of these occasions that now seem to be on complete opposite sides of the spectrum—either becoming more meaningful, or completely meaningless. Our vaccination statuses are being thrown around as if they grant permission to move on and forget what was traumatic before, even if that means forgetting what was meaningful, too.

I suppose I’m sharing all of this to say: Let’s take it easy. Let’s take our time and go slow. The sun is consistent. There’s no pressure to be everywhere all at once again. When you’re back outside in a backyard somewhere, I hope you remember what it was like learning to recognize someone’s smile behind their mask. Or see them smile without it. I hope you remember the feeling of stepping out for those few precious minutes to pick up a box of groceries or a Tupperware full of food that a loved one left at your doorstep, or as someone offers to fix you a plate of food to go. I hope you remember the slight silly-but-grateful feeling from raising your glass to a Zoom screen of people the next time you clink them together in person.

The recipes below are meant to be shared. As I created them, I thought of how it feels to celebrate with people for the first time in a long time. It’s a little bitter, especially as we think of the loved ones who are no longer here with us. It’s definitely sweet, reminiscing and reconnecting. There’s some sour and funk, as we unlearn and relearn how to be. And without a doubt, there’s plenty to savor, too.

Be safe, and just...be.

Kyi

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