Monday, September 19, 2011


Lately, I've been floating through life very retrospectively, incapable of experiencing things without reflecting on some bookmarked moment from the past. Example: I was at McNally's Bookshop reading cookbooks and had a flashback to the first time I ever cooked anything out of a book--pumpkin ravioli from scratch, a feat that I tackled without a hitch. Soon after came lasagna, tofu patties, and even olive bread--those kitchen smells are the last intangible relics of my college days.

And then there's the tough stuff that I wish I could forget, but as life would have it, I can't.

I still remember when I found out he was leaving. We cried, a lot. I cried alone and sometimes I'd just revert to self pity. Typical daddy-issue subtext that seems written into my life forever. Then he had to go. We tried but my foolishness took hold, and all the hand-holding and adventures and inside jokes and shared meals just sort of evaporated. Anger made room for recklessness. And the calls stopped. I stopped picking up. Things fell apart and I thought I could save myself by neglecting his hurt. He was then, the love of my life, and I dug a deep dark hole and buried him a little mercilessly.

And to my point about remembering things far too often--I think of him fondly and often Usually thoughts are associated with some kind of foodstuff: Chocolate cake, tacos, crumpets, and even arugula salad--all of which means nothing to most people (perhaps even to him) but are reminders of a really beautiful friendship I was lucky to have with someone. And even though we've both moved on to new lives, new loves, new culinary adventures, there will always be those moments I'll never forget which I'm sure he'll always remember, because they are his memories too.