Wednesday, July 15, 2015
For lunch I had a simple peanut butter and jam sandwich. Just peanut butter, jam and bread, just a sandwich. But it became so much more. The first bite I took was big and, as I slowly chewed and tasted, I remembered it’s journey and my part in it.
The first thing I tasted was the wheat bread I had made a few days ago. I remembered scooping out the flour and bagging it up at the store. I recalled the sticky texture while kneading the dough, the smell of the yeast while it was rising, the warmth of the pan when I took it from the little camp oven on the grill. I remembered slicing the bread and nibbling a piece that broke off and thinking how good it would be as a sandwich.
The next taste was the raspberry jam. I remembered the sweat, and scratches and pestilent bugs while gathering those sweet little berries. I remembered the bright burst of flavor with each one I popped into my mouth and then bemoaning the fact that I was eating more than I was saving. I remember catching my reflection as I passed the mirror and laughing out loud at my raspberry lipstick. I remember the wonderful raspberry smell that filled the house as I cooked the jam and the hot stickiness when I ladled it into the jars. I remember thinking how grateful I would be every time I opened one of them.
And then I tasted the peanut butter and time began to fold. I recalled buying it at the store and double checking the country of origin and ingredients. Even though I check it every time I buy it. Then it brought back memories of when Nik was little and I made homemade peanut butter with raw peanuts and oil. And then of eating P&Js with Pepper when we were kids. I wondered if she remembered them too. She loved peanut butter.
Those memories took me further adrift, so I set my plate aside and closed my eyes. I could hear sea gulls and the ocean washing upon the sand. I recalled a day that I made peanut butter and honey sandwiches, which my Love and I took to the beach. We sat on a towel and watched the waves roll in, quietly eating our sandwiches and lost in thought.
And I remember my thoughts from way back then. They were of the future and where I wished I could be. My wish then, over 30 years ago, was to live simply, quietly and peacefully. Off grid, by hand, with the Earth. Somewhere alone in the deep country, with my Love and a horse, dogs, cats, chickens, garden …..
He’s not here, of course, he crossed the veil by his own hand not long after that day of peanut butter and honey sandwiches. But today’s raspberry jam and peanut butter reminded me that I am so incredibly blessed, that most of my dreams have come true and that a sandwich isn’t always just a sandwich.