Four Slices of Cheese

Four slices of cheese. Who does that? I mean ½ pound or at least a package of cheese slices, but who goes to the deli counter and orders 4 slices of cheese?! Apparently I do. I remember noticing women like me at the counter taking an inordinate amount of time to select their deli cheese, ordering ridiculous sample sizes to take who? Clearly no voracious appetite laden young man just bucking at the gate to get out of the stable... the one who would acquiesce to sit still , barely, for a meal that caught his eye and nose. A meal that clearly did not start with 4 slices of deli cheese. Suburban grocery stores are meant for large buggies spilling over with reluctant children dripping with remnants of peace offerings, soggy crackers and rainbow cookies. I have joined the fringe zombie shoppers who have enough time to notice the specialty cracker aisle, peruse the prepared food section, and inspect each piece of fruit for any anomaly that would allow me to leave it behind. I have been cast out from a club I didn’t know I had joined. It’s not all bad, my new world of hors d’ourve dinners, and complete lack of boundaries. It is a bit like being on the outside of a fishbowl looking in. I am free to walk on by, revel in the silence, breathe the air. Yet when I am unsteady in my new unbounded world I sometimes miss the wet wild bubble that insulated me from the world outside the glass. The one where a pound of cheese made sense.


Richmond, VA