Meal of Memory
By Tim Heerdink
Our senses have the ability to trigger memory at any random point in the day when you least expect a wave of emotion to overtake you & make a brief stop in movement life calls for in progress. We have five that work in these ways to transport us through time and place like an H.G. Wells machine on the map of which we cannot see nor hold for it is within the depths of our own minds. I cut the bread, the texture of the crisp crust opening itself to a welcoming warmth on the inside as I dig my thumb deep for the spread makes me think of the one who is gone from here. Sitting at the table, I am no longer at Gray Brothers where she used to fill up her tray like a school girl on break but around family together for celebration. You spend countless hours breaking bread with those meant to carry you through life like a bible tucked between arms with care so as not to fall apart. Food keeps us breathing like a tune-up of the old machine, lubricating the organs with good drink & keeping the tank at just the right amount of full for now. These flashbacks ignited by the rendezvous of substance & tongue are always welcomed, but they never quite satisfy my appetite.