Monday, April 25, 2016
You might wish there had been fewer processed, plastic-wrapped food-like substances purchased from gas stations. You might wish for more perfect summer peaches, sweet, crisp, and juicy in equal parts, instead of mass-produced candy that leaves you wanting, leaves you hating your choice that day, that hour of self-abuse.
You might regret that cheap sparkling wine that you choked down because of its famous name and adorable packaging. Another $20 and you could have avoided a headache. Just imagine what if, at the end, you don’t think of food at all? What if it’s not steaming hot crepes smeared with Nutella in January? Or the perfect peanut butter and jelly from your lunchbox, cut into four triangles? You could remember you and your sweetheart’s first picnic, and only remember holding hands and the nap and the dog snoring in his sleep and not the homemade fried chicken you made to go with his favorite deli coleslaw, or maybe food would be woven into all the memories you collect at the end, like stacks of unsent postcards too special to mail away.