Dear Enemy

by Kristen Callihan

“A mentor of mine once told me that food is a commonality that binds us all. We all need to eat to survive. But in eating, creating dishes that gave us pleasure, we developed a story of our humanity as well as the story of who we are as individuals. Food is tied to so many of our memories.” “I once read a quote that good food heals our soul.” “The right dish certainly can.”

“So you’re a chef because you want to evoke memories?” I ask after a time. “Not exactly.” She wipes her hands with a napkin. “So we agree that food evokes memories, but a chef is doing something a little different. She’s telling you a story through food. If she does her job correctly, she’s taking you on a journey, making you taste things in a new way, making you stop, think, and appreciate the food. A chef not only feeds you; she gives you pleasure. She illuminates.”

“Mama used to say the brain can lie to you, but the heart always knows the truth.” I shrug. “Problem is, most of us would rather believe the lie than face the truth.”

“I think that if my heart was ready to hear the truth, no lie my brain could come up with would matter.”

A person’s handwriting, the places they press harder on the page, the blots and errors in the ink, show their soul. Put your thoughts in a letter, and the receiver has a record of it forever, not just a memory but something they can pull out and touch when they need a reminder.

the stars overhead gave you hope because, even though it took years for their light to reach us, their starlight still gave us joy when we looked upon them.

“Are you happy?” Something deep inside my gut tightens uncomfortably. “What a question,” I quip with a huff of laughter. Her gaze is steady and serious. “It’s a hard one, isn’t it? Sometimes, I’ll ask myself, and I have no idea what the answer is. Which probably means I’m not.”