That’s right, people, I saw Uncle Fe. (Here’s my recent post about how awesome he is/ how unfair his struggles are.)
And he brought boxes and trays and bags of food, y’all. Stuff from Sam’s Bakery in Fall River, MA; Syrian bread and meat pies and meat and yogurt pies and broccoli and feta pies and cabbage and onion pies and zaartar bread and all sorts of the Lebanese/Armenian foods on which I was raised (and on which I frequently gorge when in the presence of Uncle Felix and my mother).
And for the kids? Uncle Fe and his sister DeeDee brought beach pails and shovels and construction paper and paints and stickers and glitter and pencils and suncatchers and foam shapes and allll sorts of things to do on a rainy Cape Cod afternoon.
Even though he was in the midst of his chemo treatments, you’d seriously never know it. He hugged and kissed the babies, rested with my folks on the porch, and cracked the sort of jokes for which he is world-famous.
It was an awesome day.
It was too-short of an awesome day.
Seeya next summer, Uncle Fe. I’ll bring the new-ish person, you bring your effervescent self.
(And okay, maybe one or two of those cabbage pies.)