My husband likes a Gin & Tonic. He likes it with 2 limes. What he does not like is to have to deal with my lastima creeping in and ruining his intention, which when it comes to G & T’s is solely to kick up his feet on a lawn chair during a cool, crisp evening and relax and be content.
So he’s doing his thing in the kitchen - Hendricks in hand, tonic, crushed ice. He’s getting ready to sit outside in our backyard and watch the sun go down and feel good. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long week. I have 100 things weighing heavy on my heart but I’m being super cheery, I’m really trying, I’m telling myself, “Only think positive thoughts, let him have this!”
I do not tell him that I have lastima for the mailman because he still has an 80s-rocker hair style. I do not tell him I have lastima when people talk excitedly and their foreheads crinkle a lot. I do not tell him I have lastima for Mexico or Rwanda or the entire Middle East or everywhere. I simply smile and give him a high five.
That’s when he picks up lime #1. It’s soft and plump. You might think it won an Olympic gold medal for being the Best Piece Of Fruit In The World. But he cuts into it, takes half, squeezes, and not a drop comes out. He presses harder - zilch. And I’m trying to have a dance party, trying to tickle him, telling jokes, but he’s caught up in this dry lime and in how it has nothing left to give and how it looked so full yet it’s empty.
This gets to him. My husband has lastima for a little lime. And that wave of emotion can be cleansing. It can loosen the mind. It can make you feel connected, and that will hold you while you rest. I sit with him at dusk and let him unwind.
p.s. I did not tell him that I have lastima for cocktail garnish.