I was talking to a friend about cooking today. He heads home on the train with me nearly every afternoon and tells me what he’ll be fixing for his family for dinner. Tonight – clam linguine. Last night – taco salad. The night before – red beans and rice with chorizo. OK. Tonight at my house? Mac and Cheese. Last night? Dinner with Dad. The night before? Spaghetti.
The idea of my daughters eating whatever I fix them – no matter what – is beyond me. My friend tells me that’s because I’ve given them the choice; that if I’d just fix them food – no matter what it is – they’d learn to eat it and maybe even like it; that they’d try new things. Really?
Really. I get it. As much as I think I’m about adventure, spontaneity, anticipation, and lots of other similar words, it’s hard to think about trying new things. And I don’t mean food. I’m comfortable with things as they’ve always been – or currently are – even if that’s not the best (for me or others). I admit it: change is hard! It’s even harder to think about risking, being vulnerable, potentially trying and failing, getting hurt. It’s more than just a flavor that doesn’t jive with my palate. It’s about my heart.
Still, just as I know it for Emma and Abby, I know it for me: trying new things is important. Just as I want them to be experimenters, risk-takers, women who aren’t afraid, I want that to be true about me! So, this Wednesday night’s musings are encouraging me to not be afraid, to let change come, to allow some new tastes to enter into my all-too-familiar and/or all-too-comfortable reality, to try something new…even if I end up not liking it. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll know not to try it again. I’ll know more about myself – my likes and dislikes, my capacity and limits, my desires and fears. That’s not all bad.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to eat something other than Mac and Cheese.
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