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.

Translated by: Anonymous

April 6 2011

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