The original mission
Fresh into expanded menu
Was to purchase some items
To cook for myself at home
.
That day, I braced myself for overwhelm
Of the aisles and questions
Of the options and decisions
Of the food stamp limitations
Needing to be faced
To craft such things
.
In the original mission
I sought out the ingredients
For simple shrimp tacos
Six shrimp
One avocado
Onion
Salsa
.
That day
Upon entering the store
Indeed a flush of intensity
Needing to keep myself from running, screaming
Back out into sunshine
But persistent, for “recovery”
I made my way deeper into the pit
.
At the deli counter asking
Ashamed at the amount
Battered by forceful joyous energy
Of the butcher behind
Six shrimp
Crinkly wrapping enfolding
He gave with a stunted smile
And psychic recommendations
For a larger life
.
This time
Although less overwhelm presented at entrance
Still I braced myself
Walking up to the counter
Wondering what people were thinking
Of this woman asking for
Just
Six
Shrimp
Jumbo shrimp, actually
Enough for two tacos, actually
And there will be more food beside them
Why did I feel the need to explain?
Why did I feel this shame?
Why do I feel like I should be ordering more
Or something different
Or with a jovial laugh, socializing
Why do I feel like I should be
Something
More?
.
This time, unlike the last time
The butcher at the counter was quiet
A gentle smile and perhaps the faeblood
Listened and received
Only a kind energy was felt
As the crinkly wrapping enfolded
This time was different
There also wasn’t a mom, yammering on
About the latest diet she’d like her girl to try
Pushing pushing mind controlling
Behind me as I choose from 70 different salsas
As I strain to get food into me
Battling her spellcraft, of culture
.
This time, there were a million options
But I chose with minimal terror
And made my way out of the store
The current mission completed
I thought whether I wanted to cook these creatures for dinner
And decided to have shrimp tacos
At the local dive bar
With a friend
Instead
.
She
“Wasn’t hungry”
Having pounded a protein shake prior to meeting
Strange to have
Someone else forgoing
While I stuffed my face
Here then, was the culture stealthily yammering
Silent, silent
But deadly
.
Later
As the stoner band played on
I was taken by the drummer, in a cutoff metal tee
Ragged hair and
Full of fire
My belly kind of full
And a half a frothy beer in hand
I was reminded of him
Again
Reminded of him
And the wolf dog
And the meals
So many years ago
.
Laughing
Full but empty
With my protein fasting friend
I held this
This constant yearning
I keep trying to shake it off
But he always
Seems
To
Be
There
.
In a dream
Woken, the dreaded nausea setting in
Faint and disappearing
I saw him
Smiling
My hand over his
He stared into me
Like it was all okay
.
Memento Mori
Memento Mori
Memento Vivere
.
In one world,
Shrimp rumbling
Nauseous, sweating
And in another
He stared into me
Memento Vivere
Like it was all okay
.
.
Thanks for reading! Please join me next week as I re-create the food memory, “Our Daily Salad.”
**If you’d like to learn more about the Food Memories book I am referencing for these posts, you can support a small bookstore by purchasing it here:
https://www.ebookwoman.com/book/9781689839075
or by searching for Food Memories by Reagan Lakins on any major book selling website.
Letting Go 