I must recant

Oh the shame of it all, to recant. To see yourself as the idiot you truly are, and to fess up to it. To tell the world that you flagrantly ran your mouth, and try to right the wrong! Excruciating.

Rather recently, I made an entry on the not so desirable leftover lunch. I reflected on the way I loved something the night before, only to wake up the next day to disgust. I compared my leftover salmon to my view on men. Not all men, just some men. Well, I …I…I take it back.

Today I celebrate leftover lunch! Today I love it, like I have never loved before. It’s more succulent, more seasoned. The flavors are more infused, and I realize the beauty of the second time around. I will mend my finicky and fastidious ways. I will learn to marvel in the inherent wonders that only come through the passage time and repetition.

Forget the quick and easy. Put down those wasteful wrappers containing high calorie convenience. I want to look back and linger in the moments that passed too quickly. I want to hold on to miracles of the past and treasure them.

Perhaps, in turn, I will become a more gracious and appreciative lover. I will spend my hours recapturing all of those Sunday afternoon rendezvous that melted away so quickly, and I soak up every drop of pleasure again and again until all that is left is a smile.