My mother prints out at least 50 recipes per week.  She’s always trying new things.  This Sunday it was Indian food.  My dad came home famished from a long day at church.  He immediately started looking through the assortment of empty serving pots and pans scattered all across the stove and countertop. 

“Dinner isn’t quite ready yet," Mother informed him.  "I’m just waiting for the naan to finish.”*

He is completely lost.  “Naan?” he asks, having no idea what it means.

“Naanexistent,” I reply. 

“Oh!  Nonexistent dinner!” he laughs.  “Is that what we’re having tonight?”

“Yep,” I reply.  “And it’s ready!  So, dig in!”


*Naan [nahn]: a leavened, often tear-shaped flatbread of India, baked in a tandoor.