tmbt: saltine nostalgia
What is it about eating saltine crackers out of the sleeve that makes me feel like a little girl in the living room in front of a TV watching the Facts of Life, the silt of cigarettes floating mindlessly into my lungs and the hopes that it will all stay together nearly barreling a hole through my chest? Funny how quickly food can take us back… Saltine crackers, the thing of 80’s tummy aches and crash diets, warm soup and afternoon snacks. I had a hankering last week and bought a half-box of organic saltines and a little Irish butter and proceeded to sink back into my childhood with only a few pieces. I sit here now sinking back in again. A nice surprisingly nice feeling, like the crinkle of the sleeve could so quickly slip me through the time barrier and into a house of brothers and sister before we all moved so far away from each other on so very many levels, into a house of mother and father before they moved so far away from each other and even farther from our reach. The salt stinging the tongue, the wheat silting the stomach, a crinkling piece of plastic slowly empties, mindlessly if I’m not careful, and a stack of card memories that remind me I have come such a very very long way – that the beauty in my life is not simply a blessing, but a sheer miracle. Beautiful miracle. I well up with the knowing that it is true… saltine tears.