Pretzels

I find it quite peculiar the things that people leave behind in your life. There are suddenly objects and smells and ghosts of their essence. Anyone- from ex-friends to ex-lovers to ex-family members. They leave gifts and memories and foods and verbiage and habits and inside jokes and the list goes on. It’s astonishing to reflect on how much other people shape you and your life. It’s always something so simple and insignificant that leaves its mark. And in the present it means little to nothing, but in the past it’s so much more attention jerking. So defining. And there are times left for consideration of who and what would you be if not for these mere moments. Or at least there is for me. And I hope if I’m verbalizing my thoughts with any ounce of success, you can relate at least a tad. An ex-friend of mine once told me that for every failed relationship, she tries to evaluate what she gained that was positive from the “failure.” I’ve always loved that concept. It seemed wise and mature and healing. So if I feel like I’m becoming my mother, I focus on her admirable qualities. And from the ex-besties- what would I be without that one person to carry me through everything little and big event during the time span of us? But lately, it’s been about pretzels. Of which I am now, but was never prior, an advocate. Racheal Ray has said that food is the best way to take you back to a memory- even more so than a photo album. I absolutely could not agree more on how much food and love intertwine. In this instance, it’s not so much about the food, but rather the symbolism in it. Pretzels are a snack that I had given up on years ago and one that I never saw myself liking. That symbolism couldn’t be more fitting. And it couldn’t be less about the food and more about the new perspective and altered mindset. I took a chance and tried something “new” and in a teensy huge way, I’m a completely different person. And my reminder is a baked, knot-formed biscuit. Peculiar.