What is an open sandwich, I wondered? It must be something special as I never heard of it. Soon I learned that “open” means there is no second piece of bread that goes on the top. Ha! A sound of relief. That was so familiar. We had them for breakfast, lunch at a school cafeteria…
My nicest memories of sandwiches were from birthday parties when I was a kid. It would usually start with sandwiches, most often made with ham, potato salad on one corner, boiled eggs, a pickle. After that we would go and play until they called us for a cake. Now, the birthday parties are different, organized by specialists, with magicians and entertainers. I don’t think anyone makes sandwiches any more.
So, open sandwiches it was, for brunch. The Internet helped us make them Danish. Scandinavians often eat fish for any meal, so we had to include pickled herring, roe and some freshly cooked shrimp. There were other delicious condiments as well. I baked two types of rye bread to make the experience more authentic. A shot of aquavit was a good start.
Dissolved in the crowd
of thousands of people,
moving from one side of the planet to the other,
my daughter carried a white teddy bear,
my son a small backpack.
We played cards on the plane,
washing away the 10-hour flight,
and what we left behind.
I promised a beautiful country,
a sky without threat,
a room with light and heat.
The blood kept pumping in those chambers,
aware that no one would wait at the airport,
that I had I no address to go to.
I had a debt in my pockets,
money that I needed to return
and a bundle my parents managed to scramble.
How long could it last?
We will have birthdays
with sandwiches and cakes,
I said to myself,
stepping on the wet Vancouver street,
brushing off the rain from our faces.