Rebeca Monzo, Translator: Unstated
More than twenty years have past, and still, when I see desperate people
looking for where they sell non-rationed eggs, I remember that time when
my youngest son and I were alone. I opened the refrigerator and realized
that there was only one egg left, and it was the only source of protein
that we had. Fortunately, I had a couple of onions left and the bread
was was still free.
"Look," I said to my son, who was then eight years old (it had already
been a year since he was entitled to a milk ration) and the dollar was
illegal, "we are going to make a omelette with sliced onions, cut it in
half, and we will each put it on a half a piece of bread and with a
little oil on top, see! a nice snack."
At that moment, my niece arrived with her boyfriend, and she enters
telling me: "Aunty, we starving! The university's lunch was inedible!"
I didn't say anything. I beat that egg desperately, hoping that it would
grow. I made the omelette with onions, and split it into four parts. I
placed each portion on a piece of bread, topping each one with a piece
of lettuce. I set the table with a tablecloth, napkins, and utensils, as
if it were some big dinner. I made some lemonade and called to them.
"Bon appetit!" I told them, "At least we are all here together and have
food to share." We were all laughing really hard.
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