Sunday, March 22, 2015

Found, Day 32



A thought while making dinner:


If age were thought of in terms of things gained, instead of time (youth? chances? beauty?) lost, how rich we might think ourselves the older we get. Measured in food alone—considering the things I once hated and now enjoy, sometimes even giddily: dark chocolate, coffee, brussels sprouts, butter, gravy, salad (dark greens—I didn’t even know) avocado—each birthday that rolls around could feel more like a banquet, an unfurling, an arrival. 




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2 comments:

  1. I love this! Since my brain's been fiddling with this idea that I just turned forty, and what does that even mean?

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    Replies
    1. I know. Time keeps speeding up, which is crazy, but even crazier is that it seems we're supposed to be ashamed of this fact--at least to the extent that we try to hide or deny it.

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