“I finally understood why the dead come back for food.
My stack of tissue paper (to make papel picado) included every color in its most saturated form.
I fell in love with my bright, lacy creations.
Simply Recipes / Fer Oms /@feroms
A father set three bottles of Coca-Cola next to a black and white photograph of a womans glowing face.
I was nine, and I didnt understand why food elicited such a hullabaloo.
To me, food was lumpy and gray, gruel disguised as pork chops or broccoli.
Simply Recipes / Mark Beahm
I ate begrudgingly, if at all.
I wasnt allowed to leave until I at least attempted to finish my meal.
Come on, one.
my mom negotiated against herself.
At nine, I looked like I was six or, if generous, seven.
Overly skinny and exceptionally short, my grandma worried I might disappear.
Though I love it now, I hated it back then.
It sat in front of me, a speckled brown concoction daring me to eat it.
Instead, when our parents werent looking, my sister stole spoonfuls.
She enjoyed food wholeheartedly, a mystery to me as my pickiness was a mystery to her.
I couldnt hold any food down.
But I trusted my mom and dad wouldnt let me die.
Even when I threw up apple juice.
Even when I threw up water.
Even when I could tell my parents were terrified, I wasnt afraid.
I was suddenly hungry!
So, so very hungry.
My body clamored to survive.
During the two weeks death teased me, I discovered the feeling of craving food.
Hunger grounded me back into a body I felt ebbing.
I was finally able to imagine what it would feel like to enjoy food.
Life rebooted, hunger burst alive inside me.
Our shared joy is cooked, steamed, baked and fried into each bite.
I finally understood why the dead come back for food.
Simply Recipes / Mark Beahm
