When a sandwich is not just a sandwich.
It's a memory.
Of times that felt more whole, safer, more loving.
That pickle in there?
It reminds me of going to the Junkett down at the plaza, usually with Matt.
We'd get the avocado/veggie sandwich and the three salad plate.
We'd split.
I taste that pickle in my cheese and pickle sandwich (not like the British version...this is dill pickle, lettuce and mayo with the cheese...toasted rye with seeds this time) and I'm back there.
I'm there in that time, that wasn't perfect, but was offering me something I've been missing now since it ended.
It doesn't always happen and I'm working to make it happen less, but the memories tug, particularly when triggered.
I did better yesterday, I was more present, I felt more optimism...but last night I didn't sleep well, so...
I carry on.
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