Milk Line Rolls - Part 9
Upclose of a one dollar bill stamped with a purple peace sign, photo by Andrea Sexton Dumas
At some point during the holiday season, Kashina and her family stopped by our house. Bella asked again, “Auntie Andrea, can you make those rolls for me?” I explained that they took hours to make, so I’d have to plan it out ahead of time, but she didn’t understand and looked disappointed.
In the later weeks, research and development continued with a half batch of dough in the freezer: knead, rise, punch it down, form, freeze. I read that when you thaw the dough, they’d rise naturally in about five hours, then you bake like normal (similar to store-bought frozen dough).
I emailed my writing partner and Sikh brother Sim about writing my recipe restoration process. That night, I dreamt that one of his male ancestors was watching over my left shoulder as I wrote their family a holiday card. His face and dastaar weren’t visible to me, but his presence was strong. I was trying to draw a peace sign in the card, but the lines were crooked.
The next day, while driving to a friend’s house for a few days in the woods, I called Sim to discuss the dream and who the ancestor could be. Baji: his maternal Grandfather. He was a writer and linguist, whose principal values were hard work and honesty. Throughout the day I felt Baji’s spirit:
If Sim is your brother, then I am your Grandfather, too. If all of humanity is related, I am everyone’s Grandfather.
I remembered Karen’s dream where I stood up and commanded, “peace”. Here in my own dream, I couldn’t draw the peace sign accurately, but Baji was quietly watching my efforts.
Like the universal Grandmother rising to work with me to make Gran’s rolls, the universal Grandfather showed up through Baji to support me as I wrote about it. I held back tears as I drove and had a realization…
When Bella asked me to make rolls for her, she called me, as she always calls me, Auntie. But I always referred to her as my cousin. Up until that very moment, I thought I only had one niece and nephew, Sean’s sister’s kids Hugo and Nayeli. But many of my cousins’ and friends’ kids call me Auntie. Bella was asking me to be her milk line: to feed her, quite literally. She was summoning me into position.
Gran and Baji, the ladies from church, Sister, The Aunties all supported me as I located my role in the lineage. Certainly as much as I need to knead, I myself am needed and in an apprenticeship with the milk line. Research and development, as it were.
Later at the house in the woods, I took out the frozen dough. Thaw, rise, bake, cool, taste. Still delicious; the roll recipe is complete.
About a week after we got back from the woods as I prepared to walk Churro, I noticed a dollar bill that Sean had left on the countertop; it had been stamped with a purple peace sign.