While I eat I think about the people who plucked lunches from this basket -- one died in a plane crash at 32, another whose book I bought the other day, a third whose words I read, then read again. One was my professor.
Did they eat as I do, eager, expectant? How did the food taste in their mouths? At night I hear their voices. Perhaps they will answer my questions.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.