During times of stress, I often find myself turning to a sure-fire source of comfort food. It’s never once failed to make me feel better.
Tea with milk and sugar, and toast (slightly burned) smothered in lots of Skippy peanut butter.
The smell the taste the feel always remind me of my parents’ house. Every night, I would go down to my grandmother’s apartment to watch TV. I’d sit next to her, eat my fill of toast and tea, and wait for nine o’clock to arrive, for my parents to call me upstairs, to bed. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep, listening to the sound of Nana’s crochet needles clacking together.
Toast and tea. You can have all the booze and sex you want. For me, I have a better cure for the woes unleashed from Pandora’s box.
December 16, 2003