FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

The following story is a reminder it's the thought that counts, so don't stress over gift-giving this season (easier said than done, I know...)

TODAY'S PHRASE: C'est le geste qui compte

[say-luh zhest kee kohnt]

 : it's the thought that counts

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Entering the studio on the side of our house, I find Mom bundled in bed, laptop propped on a pillow, watching the exciting réouverture de Notre-Dame in Paris. Organ music fills the room, and the iconic église, now rebuilt after the devastating fire five and a half years ago, sparkles brightly from Jules’s side. But no matter how glorious the event on the screen, Mom will shut it off to give her full attention to her visitor.

Since our golden retriever Smokey passed away, and 20-year-old Lili the cat moved back to the neighbor’s (unwilling to share the yard with Ricci), Mom’s ever-present companion has become her laptop. Connected to the speaker Max gave her, for better sound, Jules’s computer has become her portal to limitless adventures. With a single click, she’s back with her neighborhood horses in a barrio in Mexico, tending stray dogs in Greece, or soaring over France’s beloved cathedral for a view far better than even the president's!

Sliding shut the front door, I set down my keys and phone and join Mom in her world, sharing her excitement or concern, depending on the news she’s watching. However different our views on politics and current events may be at times, we try not to get too caught up in these passing emotions. Peu importe, the two of us always seem to find a truce over food.

“I’ve made another pompe à l’huile,” I say, grinning. “Version number three. Want to try it?”

“That sounds good! You go ahead, Honey. I’ll be right over.”

I head back, with Ricci trotting close behind. High up on a branch of our bay laurel tree, resident doves, Mama and Papa, follow our every move. Moments later, Mom arrives with two polished apples, les reines des Reinettes (“queen of queens”). She places them on our coffee table as if part of a still life. When invited over for a snack or a meal, Jules's automatic response is reciprocity: her spontaneous gifts range from canned peppers to sautéed shrimp to ice cream cones. Offer Mom flowers in a tall glass vase, and she’ll divide the bouquet in two, creating an elaborate tableau vivant—a living picture—by arranging the second half artfully in a clay bowl for my coffee table.

It’s a lovely reminder of a timeless custom and a simple truth: il ne faut jamais arriver les mains vides (never arrive empty-handed). While we're here, and before we return to our narrative, here are a few more thoughts in French concerning gift-giving:

--C'est le geste qui compte
--Donner, c’est mieux que recevoir
--Le cadeau n'est rien, c'est l'intention qui compte

“Your tree looks beautiful with the lights,” Mom says, entering through the sliding glass door, taking Ricci into her lap after settling on the couch.
“Do you think I should add ornaments? I’ve got blue stars and reindeer…”
“I would leave it just as it is!”
“I like that idea!”

Presently, les santons—what clay figurines we have left—are crowded at the base of the olive tree. After Jean-Marc borrowed la crèche for his wine shop a few years back, a few characters disappeared. A quick inventory reveals we still have le porteur d’eau, la bergère, les trois mages—and Joseph—but no sign of Mary, and, good lord, Jesus has gone missing! But there’s time to find him (yes, it’s never too late to find Jesus!).

“What do you want for your birthday?” Mom changes the subject.

“You already got me something: I’ve ordered the fluffy wool faux fur coussin for my writing chair.”

“Good! Now let’s get you something else!”

I stop to revel in Mom’s generosity when suddenly she asks, “How old will you be?”

“57.”

“57! You should have a present every day!”

“Aw, Mom. What about you? What would you like for Christmas?”

“Pajamas. I want my whole wardrobe to be pajamas!”

I laugh and hug her, a warm, unspoken understanding passing between us. No matter our ups and downs this past year, Mom will always be the apple of my eye, the queen of queens—just like those polished Reinettes she brought me.

It's these little moments—the laughter, the shared joy—that are the gifts that keep on giving. Whether for Christmas, birthdays, or any day, time with a loved one is the most precious cadeau of all.

*    *     *

And now, from our home to yours, Joyeux Noël! See you in a few weeks for the very last edition of the year....

Photo taken on my birthday, three years ago, after Mom got me matching pajamas.

COMMENTS/CORRECTIONS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French vocabulary below

c'est le geste qui compte= it’s the thought that counts
la réouverture = the reopening
Notre-Dame (f) = cathedral in Paris
l’église (f) = church
peu importe = no matter what
la pompe à l’huile = traditional olive oil bread
la reine des Reinettes = queen of queens (type of apple)
le tableau vivant = living picture
il ne faut jamais arriver les mains vides = never arrive empty-handed
donner, c’est mieux que recevoir = giving is better than receiving
le cadeau n'est rien, c'est l'intention qui compte = the gift is nothing; it's the intention that counts
le santon = figurine from a Provençal nativity scene
le porteur d’eau = water carrier
la bergère = shepherdess
les trois mages = the three wise men
le coussin = cushion
le cadeau = gift
Joyeux Noël = Merry Christmas

Lili the cat update: 20-year-old Lili, who moved in with Mom after Smokey passed away, has always been an outdoor cat, but for the past year, she has preferred to stay inside, where she is cozy in our neighbor's armoire. Sadly, Lili's 15-year-old daughter recently passed away at our neighbor's, where both cats lived.

Our doves, Mama and Papa, befriended Mom when she moved here 6 years ago. Though Smokey and Lili are gone, this sweet pair of tourterelles are as close to mom as any. "Mama" has a white patch on her left wing, and "Papa" is never far from her, making it easy to identify the two.


Photo taken at les roches plates in La Ciotat. The texture of this rock reminds me of the surface of the pompe à l'huile, or crumbly olive cake I made recently. How did yours turn out?

REMERCIEMENTS/THANKS
I'd like to express my heartfelt appreciation to the following readers for their helpful donations to this blog!

Karen L.
Linda R.
Cerelle B.
Michèle C.
Sue & Charlie JP

Thanks for the weekly smiles and sunshine. —Karen L.

Joyeux Noël to you, Jean-Marc, Jules, and your kids! —Linda R.

Have a Blessed Christmas, Kristin and thanks for the recipes. Hugs. —Cerelle


A mid-December hike with Ricci in the hills above La Ciotat, offering a glimpse of the wintry Mediterranean Sea beyond the crumbling ruins