Cheesecake, Rice, and Beans - SOL20 Day 19

A year ago today, I cried over a piece of cheesecake. Yes, I seriously remember it. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was having a really hard day, but I knew that I had a piece of cheesecake waiting for me in the fridge. Honestly, it was what got me through the day. When I finally got home, I opened the fridge, and it was gone.  
Gone.  
Eaten.
Eaten by someone other than me. I felt betrayed. I was Caesar. My dad was Marcus Brutus. The chocolate was still around the edges of his lips when I asked him (the way you ask a question you already know the answer to) if he knew who ate my cheesecake.
"Oh, you still wanted that?"
Oh, you still wanted that?!
He felt so bad that he went to the store just to get me another slice of cheesecake (so, maybe calling him Marcus Brutus was a little harsh). When he got back, he proudly announced that he had bought the last piece of cheesecake that was available. Relief swept over me. Imagine two lovers running to each other from across a field: that was me and the package of cheesecake as he handed it to me.
I looked at the label. I was hoping that it was coffee or chocolate flavored, but at this point I was ready to settle for anything.
The words on the label processed, and realization hit me.
I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.
A lump was threatening to form in my throat.
"Dad," I said quietly, trying to hide my severe disappointment, "This has pecans in it. I'm allergic."

--

Today, I cried over bags of rice and beans.
It was about 11am when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I stood up from where I had been sitting when I heard a car door open and close. Up the front porch steps came my principal. He was almost unrecognizable in his baseball cap and jeans. I don't think I've ever seen him not wearing a suit and tie.
My roommate opened the screen door to take the grocery bag that he had brought to us. We invited him in for coffee, but he told us that he had been to three grocery stores today, and he didn't want to track anything into the house.
Oh, yeah.
She closed the screen door again, and we talked and laughed through the glass like an inmate who was receiving a visitor.
All too soon, he retreated from the front porch so that he could go deliver care packages ("apocalypse groceries", as he called them) to the other teachers from my school.
We took the bag into the kitchen and opened it up. Three bags of rice, and four bags of beans. It was about $20 worth of food, and we were only one of many deliveries.
I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.
A lump was threatening to form in my throat.
"Katy," I said to my roommate, "This is what I needed today. I'm so comforted."

Comments

  1. Oh, how powerful. I can see why you cried. Both times. Very effective storytelling here. It held my interest throughout. I love the image of your principal on your front porch handing over the apocalypse groceries. Precious.

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    1. It was so precious! I'm glad that you thought the storytelling was effective. Thank you!

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  2. You treated me to two stories today! The first one made me laugh. The 2nd one brought tears to my eyes. What a caring Principal you have. What a difference a year makes.

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    1. My reoccurring theme for my Slices has been "what a difference a year makes". It's crazy to think about how drastically different life is from where we were a year ago, and where we will be a year from now.

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  3. That is amazing of your principal!! I loved the story of the cake - I've definitely had days where I'm desperate for sugar and won't be okay with it. I loved the reference of him to Brutus haha

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