The whole package. They were the best berries I’ve had this year.
Isn’t it hard, sometimes, to find a little something just for you?
I pack everyone a delicious lunch, forgetting my own, vegetarian version. I bake and cook and wash and sweep. I ask for help and brace myself for rejection, wholeheartedly accept whatever I get. I tuck myself away in my room to read a book, braking for interruptions. I wake early and drink tea over my journal, writing away frustrations so they don’t cross over into resentment. I walk each morning to move my body, my brain into calmer space.
And all of these things are simple, but sometimes they feel hard.
When my kids were little, I’d sometimes hide candy in the bathroom. As if they couldn’t hear the crinkling wrapper through the door. The candy didn’t help, not really. But it represented something that I needed, something that was mine alone.
Today, I wanted the raspberries, and so I ate them. All.
One whole glorious package of my favorite things in the world, all for me. I didn’t hide. I sat at the table and took slow bites, savoring each sweet-sour burst. I spend most of my life sharing every single thing – I’ll get back to that in a second.
But this morning I ate all the raspberries, and I don’t regret it.