TODAY’S WORD: le reflet : reflection

PRONUNCIATION: [luh ruh-flay]

Le reflet dans la vitre me rappelait que la vie est souvent plus belle quand on la regarde sous un autre angle. The reflection in the window reminded me that life is often more beautiful when viewed from another angle.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

The view outside just got prettier.

This happened quite by accident after I pulled open the bedroom windows and settled back into bed to enjoy the morning breeze. Looking at the angled window, I suddenly noticed a whole new scene reflected there. Way off in the distance was the rocky cliff! I could only see the edge of it, but I recognized one of Les Trois Secs. Closer to home stood our massive cedar and—quelle surprise!—two baby squirrels chasing each other through the branches.

I sat back against bright new pillows and sheets and sipped my coffee. 

Adding to this delight were memories from the previous evening. We had dinner at our friends Patrick and Pascale’s vineyard, Domaine Antiane. Pascale is a creative cook and loves to dress the table. This one featured an embroidered nappe covered in colorful figures—almost as charming as her guests: the potter, the sailor, and the peony grower.

The meal tickled our tastebuds: first came avocado sprinkled with citron caviar, followed by a Tunisian tart filled with 7-hour lamb, pignons de pin, courgettes, and raisins secs. After a selection of cheeses, Pascale served homemade lemon cake drizzled with raspberry coulis and seasonal strawberries.

I floated home in a dreamy bubble of intent: more color, more culture, more imagination!

The next morning I ordered En attendant Bojangles, a novel all three women—the potter, the sailor, and the cook—had recommended. Like the heroine of the story, I decided I would become more playful with each detail of daily life.

(Unlike her, I would not go crazy.)

Digging through my closet, I found the sleeveless polka-dot dress—previously worn to a wedding, currently perfect for the heatwave. The next day I sported Mom’s persimmon kaftan with a blue checked collar and a giant lobster on the back. By day three I reached for a black shift dress I had been saving for another occasion. 

Which? 

When? 

Why not now?

Finally, I’d taken Mom’s long-standing suggestion, “Why don’t you wear that around the house?” She says it each time I put on a pretty dress. But why, I argue, wear your nice clothes chez soi? Dog fur would coat them, and the afternoon nap would wrinkle everything! Funny how it sometimes takes strangers to drive an idea home. For me it was those fascinating ladies at dinner, and the heroine who, wearing a cocktail dress, jumps into the hostess’s swimming pool. (Ça y est. I’ve begun the book!)

Inspired by it all, I began to loosen up. On my way to the gym, I ran like a child through the sprinklers at the park, and later returned home to dress in léopard (read the word in French and the sentence sings!).

Alive now in a new world of possibilities, I was scrambling eggs for Mom in that leopard-print jumpsuit–un sarouel–humming along to my new “authentic life” frequency, when she looked up from the stack of photographs I’d placed beside her plate.

“Oh, look at you here. You were so beautiful.”

The hummingbirds in my head went silent.

“I mean, you’re still beautiful,” Mom quickly corrected herself.

I resumed cooking. A few moments later she picked up another photograph.

“Oh, look at you here. I like you with bangs. So pretty.”

“Mom, I was in my twenties!”

“And then Max was born—and that was the end of your beautiful hair.”

I nearly dropped the spatula.

The end of my beautiful hair? There it was: the sort of comment only a mother could make. And to think I had spent the morning washing and blow-drying that very hair, trying, as my old hairdresser used to say, to put all chance on my side. 

For a fleeting second I wanted to defend myself. Instead, I transferred the eggs to the plates, adding slices of tomatoes and oranges, determined to add some flourish.

Mom buried herself in the photographs. The moment passed. An amusing phrase brought back my smile, “Suck it up, Buttercup.” It seemed Mama Buttercup was doing the same. Without missing a beat she was back to admiring the world around her.

These were the most delicious eggs she’d ever eaten. And, slipping food under the table, “Ricci is the best dog in the whole world. This living room is the most beautiful. And the view—the prettiest anywhere!”

My mom has always exaggerated her compliments. It’s her way of showering you with love. 

Indeed, the view… 

Next time your mother accidentally declares the end of your beautiful hair, take a step back and see the scene reflected in the window glass, where the view just got prettier.

Because one day, if you’re lucky, you’ll have someone sitting at your table, studying old photographs and reminding you who you’ve been and who you still can be.

FRENCH VOCABULARY

le reflet = reflection

Les Trois Secs = “The Three Dry Ones” (name of the rocky peaks)

quelle surprise = what a surprise

la nappe = tablecloth

le citron caviar = finger lime (citrus caviar)

les pignons de pin = pine nuts

les courgettes = zucchini

les raisins secs = raisins

En attendant Bojangles = Waiting for Bojangles (a novel)

chez soi = at home; in one’s own home 

Ça y est = that’s it; there we go; I’ve done it

le léopard = leopard print

le sarouel = a harem-style jumpsuit

EDITS WELCOME
If you spot a typo, mistake, or ambiguity, thank you for letting me know at Kristin.espinasse@gmail.com

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