5 o’clock


 5 o'clock
5 o’clock. The magical hour. Not yet night, no longer day time.

Possibly the only hour that has left memories of my childhood in my mind

I can still smell it and I can hear its sounds to this day.

When I was a kid I used to go to some classes after school. Piano classes, theater classes, English classes or any school activities. By 5 o’clock I’d be walking many blocks back home and passing by several houses. The sound coming out of the windows was of pans on the stove, dishes being set at the table, the “clink” noise of silverware and family talking. Besides the noise there was the smell of dinner being cooked, and in my mind nothing was more comforting than being able to go home for food and family time.

Some 35 years have passed and I’m still touched by that memory. I have moved a lot. I have lived in big cities where you don’t walk by people’s windows, you only hear traffic going by fast. I moved to a different country where people don’t leave their windows open at all, because of constant A/C or heater on.  But when my mind wanders in the past I still smile at the thought of those memories.

Now I’m the mom and the cook who offers those memories to my family. I am sure the smell of dinner being cook is comforting to the people in this house. This is when we know we are still here sharing another day together.

5 o’clock, time to head home.

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