Member-only story
One of the many things I buy at one of my favorite big-box stores is frozen vege-burritos.
I briefly glance at the ingredients and place the box in my shopping cart.
Price is a secondary consideration.
I have a young Ukrainian couple living with me.
They tend to eat a lot of meat, as is likely customary in their country.
I give them full use of the house, including the kitchen.
I know they are under stress.
They have shown me videos of bombs and missiles landing on areas not far from where their families live.
Shortly after arriving, I heard the young woman weeping.
She was already homesick.
In addition to being away from home, one of them is seeking employment.
The young man had a job, but lost it.
The young woman works full time at a local senior-assisted facility.
They are trying to learn English and adapt to American culture, which is different from that in Ukraine in more than one way.
I figure the last thing they need is someone telling them what they should and should not eat.
Sometimes I eat what they cook.
Other times I don’t.
They know I’m largely vegetarian but eat some fish.
