The People Behind My Eyes

Dinner is always a big deal for me. I guess I just enjoy a nice meal. Atmosphere is important too so I set the table for every single meal I eat. How I eat now has a lot to do with how I ate as a child. We ate out all the time. Most meals were eaten at a sit down restaurant where they discouraged jeans and T-shirts. She hardly ever cooked. When she did it was nasty. The woman couldn’t cook for the world. We ate out if we ate at all. It’s kind of funny; we either starved or dined exquisitely. There was hardly ever a balance in that house. It seems today that I am driven to eat at home and at my own table. The woman who brought in 120K a year was also the woman that owned a few forks and a few plates and used frozen orange juice cans for cups. I don’t know how you balance that either or how you blend sleeping in a car with yearly ski trips to Switzerland. There was no such thing as balance in the house I once lived in.

Today, all meals are events, experiences and celebrations. I enjoy taking the time to mix the right amount of herbs with the right amount of olive oil. I enjoy taking the time to fix my plate even when it’s “just” a tuna on rye. Today I can express what I couldn’t long ago, joy while eating. I think I have a festive spirit. I’m not rowdy or even a partier by any means, but a nice celebration of the moment is what I intend to put on my plate each time my soul is hungry. Yesterday, meals were the result of a break in her insanity which allowed her to see the importance of feeding the living. Yesterday, meals were rewarded after we gave something in the form of sweat and tears.

This evening I made lasagna and ate at my own dining room table. There are candles on the table but I didn’t light them this time. I ate off of real plates, real silverware and enjoyed every single bite of it. To complete the experience, the celebration and the event I sipped a hot cup of coffee. To me, dinner isn’t complete unless I have coffee.

I had seconds because I wanted it, not because I didn’t know when I was going to eat again. I didn’t gorge. I didn’t attempt to cover up uncomfortable emotions with sauce and melted cheese. I didn’t abstain or deny myself a good meal based on old ideas of what one should do before being allowed to eat. I simply ate. In 2006 in my home, ate at my table, with my plates, forks, knives and my glass filled with iced tea. I drank Folgers from my favorite coffee mug. I added chocolate and almond extract to it and then topped it off with cream. I don’t have to deserve it. The word deserve isnt welcome in my home, in my kitchen, on my table or on my plate.

Even though yesterday surrounds everything I do today, the fact remains, tonight’s meal was wonderful. Most of my meals these days are wonderful despite the past trying to blow out the candle light. It’s like eating dinner with a group of invisible people standing around the table, standing over your shoulder and looking you in the face so as to catch your eye. They’re standing by waiting to remind me that I didn’t work hard enough for that meal or that I look stupid, sound stupid, I am stupid. Tonight I knew the past was there but I didn’t look up. I just lifted my fork and stayed in the moment, in the here and now. The past is there. It’s around me and at every single turn but today I chose to enjoy the day and not give it the satisfaction of eye to eye contact. The past stands behind me, in front of me, to the side and to the left. It’s in every colour, every sunset and sunrise. I’m grateful for the times when I can enjoy life despite the efforts of the past to destroy my here and now. I’m grateful for times like tonight when the past wasn’t able to blow out my spiritual candle light.

Cheers,
Austin’s August

Friday, January 27, 2006
10:20 PM