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mexican food

My hands touched the stiff white styrofoam, moving from back to front until my fingertips reached the latch.  As soon as the cover was open I was immediately taken to a different place. A different time.

It was a time of swollen ankles and expanding waistline.  A time of cracker nibbling and incredulous forgetfulness.  A time of irritation and tenderhearted affection.  A time of cleaning out and stocking up.  

It wasn’t last month’s crimson tide.  (I’m sorry to all you men reading this post.)  It was about two and a half years ago and it wasn’t just me anymore.  I was now responsible for more than one life.  I had another life forming inside me.

And than little life ate many, many nights on what was in this white styrofoam box.  I had even become ‘a regular’.  This little mexican food dive would know my order as soon as I’d call.  One of the cooks was even in the delivery room of the hospital when Baby Blue decided to make her entrance.

Ok, maybe that one went a little too far.  But you know me, I can be prone to exaggeration.

mexican food


That is really what I’m talking about.  I held onto that box, ready to slap anyone that came too close.  Baby Blue was in fear for her life.  Why was mommy holding onto this little box of food with such a grip?  She always shares her food. Always.

Why had it been so long since I’ve eaten this food?  I mean we only had it about 200 days out of my 260 day pregnancy.

Just the scent alone had drool dripping down my mouth and onto my shirt.  On my shirt? Oh, who cares about that shirt anyway.  

As I closed my eyes to savor that first, mouth-watering bite, I was filled with anticipation.  My heart thumped loudly.

My Christopher asked, “So, was it everything you remember?”

Nope.  It was good, but not like I remember.  I was confused.  Devastated. Lost. My heart sank. The drool began to dry up and my composure returned to normal.

I mean, it was good, really good.  But there is a difference between satisfying a hunger and satisfying a craving.  A deep, longing heart-wrenching craving.

The rumble that growled from deep inside my being was quieted, the hunger satiated.  But I had no craving, no deep longing to quiet.

I ate.  It was good.  And I shared.  Baby Blue even ate my very last one.