It’s 11:42 am. I am hungry. I have been writing at my computer the majority of the morning. I have books to the left of me. I have books and my journal to the right of me. When I look up, I see sheets of rain out the window. I also see a plate of newly picked tomatoes. They make me wonder what will I have for lunch?
Another tomato and bacon sandwich?
There’s still some lightly fried garden eggplant in the fridge. I could whip up an eggplant tomato and basil bake. Nah. I don’t want to go pick the basil in the pouring rain. Lazy.
I could put the tomato and eggplant on toasted bread for a nice garden sandwich. I might even add a touch of goat cheese.
OHHH, I think I’ve got it.
A grilled cheese and tomato sandwich! Haven’t had one of those in years! My mother used to make those for me when I was little. I can feel the warm tomato juice drip down my chin, I can see the bits of fresh basil in the gooey, stringy cheese. I can smell my past.
Off to make my memory today’s reality.