It is a well known part of my backstory, Modern Philosopher, that I suffer from abandonment issues.
I have been told that this problem finds its root in my mother’s dying when I was three. I have no memory of her, and only a few pictures of her to give me any reminder of the woman who brought me into this world.
Sometimes, being alone really wears on me. A blizzard weekend like this one, for example, seems to call more atention the fact that I’m by myself and have no one to turn to simply to distract me from the bad weather and all the anxieties it brings to the surface.
It’s times like this when I wish I had someone here to assure me that all will be well.
Like a Mom.
Rather than wallow in self-pity (there will be plenty of time for that later as the blizzard is supposed to ravage Maine until midnight), I thought I’d find a way to feel a little less alone.
So I made a sandwich.
It’s liverwurst and American cheese on toast with a lot of yellow mustard. This was all washed down with a glass of milk.
What made this sandwich so special?
I’m told I inherited my love for liverwurst from my Mom. No one else in the family likes it, and whenever I mention the sandwich to anyone outside of my family, they make faces because the mere thought of eating liverwurst grosses them out beyond words.
I don’t eat it often. This week, however, I had a craving for it. The thing is, my grocery store never sells liverwurst with the pre-packaged cold cuts in the deli department. I know they have it behind the counter, but since COVID, I don’t like to wait in line and I don’t like the idea of someone handling my meat (get your mind out of the gutter!!!).
Yes, I realize that all the pre-packaged deli meats were handled by someone, but don’t try to introduce logic into this conversation!
Anyway, when I went grocery shopping this week, there was no line at the deli counter. And what was up front and on sale this week? Liverwurst, of course.
I took that as a sign that I could finally man up and order some from the delicatician. Wait. Is that a word? I don’t think so. But I like the way it looks and sounds, so I’m going to use it.
I asked the delicatician to slice me a pound of liverwurst. Then I grabbed a pre-packaged thing of American cheese. Come on, now. I’m not going to be that adventurous and ask her to slice me up the cheese as well.
And because of this, the sandwich I needed, the one that made me think of my Mom, was available to me today when I needed it.
Maybe Mom was watching over me. One never knows.
I’m happy to report that my lunch was delicious and took my mind off that fact that I live all alone in the world’s most annoying snow globe, if only for a few minutes…
Does anyone else like liverwurst?