I remember that summer

In the shimmering heat of the valley

Crouched at that splintering table

Under electric blue skies

Flies buzzing round me

Seeking the spicy

Sweet globs of BBQ sauce

Ooozing out of the meal

I pretty much left untouched

I remember the scents

Of rosemary and coyotebush

Hovering

Wafting into my nostrils

On those shimmering heat waves

Warming my cold and grieving heart

I remember my struggle

Of whether to eat

Of whether to care

Of whether to

Die

I remember the hollow

Carving me out

In the back seat

Winding through Monterey Pines

Apathetic vocalizations of Floyd in the mix

I remember

Feeling the intensity

Of not feeling

Anything

At all

This time, although alone

The same blue skies crowned me

And although too crisp a day to transmit

A wall of rosemary also cradled

My eating experience

And although this time, alone

And feeling somewhat empty

This time

I ate anyway

And thought about the determination of life

And the years gone by

This week’s food memory reenactment took me to my own mountain town’s deli, as it was too much to make the drive to the actual location of the original memory. As in past weeks, my attempt to recreate the memory brought forth some synchronicity. As mentioned above, fresh starts of rosemary plants were lining the entire outside patio, similar to the rosemary of the original scene…the starts never having been there until this day, I thought it was interesting, as if something was meeting me, playing with me, as I attempt these re-creations. Perhaps.

What wasn’t there was someone to help me get the deli staff to make a decent sandwich. He knew how to make something taste good, and I still have the propensity for lack. The option of a BBQ Chicken sandwich was not on their specialty list, so I had to fill out a build-it-yourself list. What came out the other end was pretty disappointing–minimal BBQ sauce, dry chicken, stale bread. So eating it was not exactly exciting nor did it remind me of the deliciousness of that day so long ago. The deliciousness I was paradoxically contending with as I was so very deep in grief that day.

The sourdough roll I remember being fresh, toasted…the BBQ sauce overflowing…the tomatoes ripe and juicy. This time, that was not there. But my determination, my knowing I needed to eat anyway, was. Granted, I could have marched back into the deli and demanded a re-do, or purchased something else entirely, but feeling not really motivated to enter into drama I chose to just eat the damn sandwich and call it a day.

While I was eating, I did manage to notice some interesting emotional spaces of which I noted in my art process later in the evening, with Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here playing in the background. I noticed that instead of feeling shame at having people see me eat, I rather felt kind of badass. Interesting transformation–to have that shame not be such an issue anymore, and that I don’t even notice sometimes how much I have changed in my relationship with food even though there are still struggles. I also noticed a certain sense of determination. Synchronistically, I seem to be dealing with some emotional emptiness like that day, and instead of the choice to quell that feeling with the choice of not eating, I chose to eat anyway. Hmm. Another transformed behavior. Having frustration at not being able to get what I wanted to taste was also a very different emotional state than that victim-y despondent place I was in.

While not full of bells and whistles, this eating experience showed me some of the ways I have transformed in my life, as well as the obstacles I have chosen to stick around to overcome. I spent some time thinking of all the things I’d been through since that day, how intense life has been, and how in some way I have managed to come out fighting, or at least determined to keep trying.

I took myself on a long hike after the meal, letting the sandy hills and the Ponderosa Pines hold me in my process. I let the wind caress my cheek, and marvelled at the awakening of spring blossoms and wildlife around me. I let my relationship be with nature, as I’ve learned to do, whenever I feel alone. That day, so long ago, I did not yet have this awareness, and almost chose to leave the planet to find love on the other side.

I’m so glad I chose otherwise, even if it results every once in a while in having to eat a shitty BBQ Chicken sandwich.

*Join me next week for “Oatmeal.”

**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.