Matthew’s mom and dad bought me an amazing food processor for Christmas. I only unpacked it from the box tonight, which though somewhat embarrassing is because every time I opened the damned lid I saw the big red warning regarding its unpacking: Blades are sharp.
I was scared of the food processor. I was intimidated by the food processor.
But tonight at Earth Fare, Cole dumped a ton of organic, frozen fruit into my cart and I realized that while I’ve been talking and thinking about it for a really long time, I haven’t made a smoothie in nearly two years.
It’s been nearly two years. Since I became separated. Since I moved out of my house and into an apartment. Since I turned my world (and the Kaiser’s) upside down because I was unhappy, unsober and undone.
And that’s some heavy shit.
I made the Kaiser a smoothie tonight. We mixed the strawberries, bananas, blueberries and yogurt. I showed the kid how to turn on the mammoth machine. We watched it spin. I poured the purple concoction into a glass and he smiled and drank it. Purple lipped at the kitchen table, he asked me if I had ever made him a smoothie before.
How such a little thing can break my heart. From the time he was able to eat solid food, I made the boy a smoothie nearly every day. They were his favorite. It was our thing. But two years is a long time. It’s nearly an eternity in a child’s mind. I understand that.
I guess that smoothies were one thing I got right. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it? It’s a little stupid. I think back on making them for the Kaiser and those are clear moments. Unclouded and pure. It didn’t much matter if I was hungover when I made one, although I don’t ever remember that being the case.
Eh. It made me sad. And at the same time, I know that A) I, too, remember nothing prior to the age of about five and B) I’d damn well better make each moment count.