Our microwave broke two days ago.
You would think this would be a terrible, terrible thing. Oh, but the things we have cooked–slowly and beautifully–without it.
I became old-fashioned like grandma, turning bacon in the pan. The smell filled even the upstairs. I became slow and patient, listening for the song of the tea kettle that heated my water on the gas stove. I became an expert in heating leftovers with olive oil in the pan and added my own seasonings to make it even better.
I embraced the sounds and smells of a different kind of day with this thing I thought we needed, now gone.
When something breaks, it might just be, like my friend Sandy reminded me, to put me back into the joy of an unhurried life.