I did not have “hibachi chicken” or the memories tied to it on my bingo card for today.
I’m sitting on my couch eating takeout after getting home from the conference because... why not, right?
As soon as I sat down, though, the thought had crossed my mind that I might not ever be able to get up. Or rather, that I might not ever want to get up. It’s like the knots in my shoulders had just each mindlessly cracked their knuckles and decided to settle in. So I’d reached for my phone and ordered from Door Dash, too wiped out to cook. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much to cook anyway, since I’d been traveling... I have to go food shopping, but figured that was a problem for future me.
I’m exhausted.
Somewhere on I-89 during my drive back, the idea to get delivery popped into my head. I had actually been looking forward to ordering from a different place, but they were closed. So, I took a shot on something else because they were doing some kind of promo. I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I opened the container that I saw the grilled chicken, veggies, and rice that my eyes widened. For some reason, I thought of a restaurant we’d go to when visiting my dad as a kid—a place I don’t know that I’ve thought about since. I don’t even remember its name; my siblings and I just always called it the “hibachi place.” It became something of a “thing” we did for special occasions, and at the same time, I don’t have particularly fond memories associated with it.
But this is sort of a special occasion, right?
I was recognized for my years of service...
By a group of people I look up to...
Surely that’s worth celebrating?
So I’m sitting up on the couch now, trying to give myself some grace after the long week I’d just wrapped up. I’m smiling thinking back on it. I really love going to that annual conference and catching up with friends. And, it’s also pretty taxing. You know, but in a good kind of way that comes with the satisfaction of a job well-done.
Ok, this food is surprisingly delicious. It’s got that smokey, grilled quality to it where the teriyaki chicken and vegetables are the good kind of charred. As I’m chewing, I start thinking back on a couple of those hibachi dinners with my family. I’m expecting to find disappointment or maybe some bitterness, but surprise myself when I don’t. Instead, I stumble upon... compassion? Even when those dinners would turn hostile, they were an attempt at celebrating someone or something. I don’t know that I’ve ever looked at it that way until just now.
Didn’t see that coming.
But I guess you never do.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
281/365
lorem
onward.
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