Strawberries and Cheese

It’s been a long while since I’ve eaten strawberries with cheese. Yes, just like that moment in Ratatouille where he takes a bite and the world suddenly explodes into colour and sound. I like those moments – flavourful ones – which, like food, I get to savour and enjoy awhile.

My recent lack of strawberries and cheese seems to me a sign that I have been moving very quickly. It reminds me of an entry in my diary one morning many weeks ago:

I got up before the sunrise today but I was so busy, I missed it. I missed my favourite part of morning.

Life, in the past months at least, has been a beautiful flurry of fast-forward motions. Each morning has swung me into something new and exciting and in running to catch up with the world as it turns, the quiet, flavourful moments have fallen by the wayside.

I miss my strawberries and cheese.

I naively had several projects planned for the few days of chocolate-ridden, government approved “time off” that coincided with my mid-semester break. Unsurprisingly, they all fell by the wayside when everyday chaos suddenly took pause. I couldn’t bring myself to find the new and exciting things when my body was asking me for rest and care. So I listened to it, and I tried to slow down.

It started with a dangerously luxurious walk by the beach after work. The choice to meander that extra train stop rather than save time. It bubbled into a few pauses on that walk: tying my shoelaces, rewinding my headphone lead. It culminated in an all-out, time-wasting, decadent and indulgent example of hedonism at its finest. I sat, silent, to watch the beach waves move.

I could taste saltwater on my tongue. The cold wind stung the end of my nose and my eyes watered a little in response to the violence of the swift sea breeze. The horizon line was beautiful. I could’ve stared at it forever.

So I wrote another diary entry:

Note. Buy Strawberries.