{16} Leftovers.

I’m told that our brightest memories are the ones attached to the strongest emotions, so it makes sense that finding the plum and chocolate muffin in my car was something I remember so clearly.

It had been a long three days at an away-from-home training clinic, and I was starving and sadly out of food.  Rumbling around the glovebox of my car, I found an uneaten muffin, pristine and forgotten, purchased from the café the day before.  How it had been ignored, I’ll never know, but I’m not going to defend myself here.

For the next five minutes, it was just me and that soft and fluffy muffin, and as with all good love stories, for those moments, nothing or no-one else existed.

The story that follows is quite similar.

The other night, G was picking up our boys from a friend’s house and time had begun to run away.

“Why don’t you get takeaway?” I suggested, an indulgence and a luxury when you live in a place where the closest thing you have to ‘Door Dash’ is fighting your way into the house without letting the dogs in.

Dinner that night went the usual way (and yes, the curry was most excellent), but it’s the day after I want to talk of to you here.

The moment, when at lunchtime the next day you are hungry, hypoglycemic, and uninspired. When your mind runs through the usual options, finding none of them tasty or appealing, and then you remember…

Leftovers.

I admit that I’ve never extensively discussed this with anyone to see if this is a peculiarity to me or a commonly shared delight, but I assume it is that latter.

The elation that runs though you. The acceleration and speed towards the fridge. How you don’t even have to heat them up for them to taste good. You can eat them cold! You are that kind of crazy! How you absolutely aren’t willing to share, and if asked, you’ll most probably pretend it never happened. How it’s always the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

It was the other day, but it meant so much I made a note about it in my iPhone:

Leftovers. Small Happinesses.

So here we are, reliving that same moment: Leftovers are my happiness for today.

 

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