It’s been a really great 29 years. Really. I’ll never forget all those times when I had a bad day at school and you were there, in the car from my mom, or just staring me in the face at the checkout counter when we went grocery shopping. The first time my mom gave me money to use all by myself, I spent it on you. You comforted me during hard times, and I cherished you as my trophy when I accomplished something great.
You helped me bond with my family. All those times my sis, mom, grand-aunt and I baked out of the Betty Crocker cookbook, you were an integral part of our relationship building. I’ll never forget all of those Halloweens with friends when I filled my bucket or pillowcase so much that I could barely carry my loot home. And when the mice in our house chewed through my bag to get at the stash. That was funny, and gross.
And those recess snacks from the high school convenience store… the cookies at UBC’s Blue Chip Cookies… and later in life when I discovered cupcakes and macarons, and even at all the trade shows we’ve worked for in recent years.
You’ve always just been there.
But somewhere along the line, things have gone awry. I realized you and I were no longer compatible, and even when the naturopathic physician told me I was sensitive to you, and to stay away from your great companion, chocolate, I didn’t. I hung on.
I’m going to miss you, and I know I’m going to meet you when I have an ice cream cone every now and then, or disguised in other savoury food and dishes, and saying hello in my social media feeds. It’s not goodbye forever, but it’s goodbye. A conscious uncoupling, so to speak.
