Liverwurst and Melted Cheese
Vividly, I remember sitting on the stained, hardwood floor in front of the oven, ready, waiting, wanting to eat, watching bubbles begin to stretch through the cheese over pink liverwurst softening, oozing to the edge of the bread. Basking in the orange glow of the broiler, I watched my liverwurst and cheese sandwich melt together. Surrounded in warmth radiating through the oven door and from my mother beside me, I looked forward to eating. Every day, after jumping on my parents’ bed while watching “The Elephant Show” on Nickelodeon, and before going to afternoon kindergarten, this was my routine. Sometimes, I’d have bologna and cheese rolled up and pierced with toothpicks or a few different varieties of sandwiches with the crusts cut off with a side of fruit and chocolate milk. But for the most part, on most days, I wanted and had liverwurst and melted cheese.Holding on to this memory seemed to help me during treatment. It made me want to feel that way again. To know when I was hungry, to ask for what I wanted, to automatically give myself what I needed, to think about nothing but how good what I was eating tasted and how warm I felt, to not give it a second thought after it was gone, and to feel satisfied being full. To find a definitive, positive, fond memory about food, I had to go all the way back to kindergarten...
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