Salad and its Associated Feelings

The other evening, we had baked fish with fries and salad for dinner. I wouldn't have foreseen that there would be a day that I would serve a big bowl of salad in Christophe's absence. Never a salad person, since I wasn't brought up that way, putting salad on the table is a learned and conditioned habit.

It used to be when Christophe is around, salad is a regular side or main dish. And when he is away, we will never see salad on the table. In other words, salad is tagged alongside with Christophe: Christophe = salad, no Christophe = no salad. One, because I didn't know how to dress the salad or rather, didn't bother to find out; two, because the boys didn't enjoy raw vegetables. We also don't like the salad dressings, for instance the overly-fattening creamy Thousand Island, or French Dressing, that come in bottles in the supermarket.

Things change after we move here. The boys, including Johann, started eating salad. Of course, they didn't just help themselves to it. Everyone was forced to eat some in the beginning, "if you don't like it, I won't give you anymore but you have to finish what's on your plate. If you like it, I will be happy to give you a second helping", the rule we always apply when we introduce new food to them. The result was more than what we had unexpected. They (and I) love the salad with the slightly sweetened vinaigrette, Christophe's Oma salad dressing recipe.

Eating salad without Christophe is an alien feeling since I always associate eating it only when he is there. So that evening when I ate salad without him, my thoughts about him deepened, my longing for his return intensified.

2 weeks down and counting. 3 more to go.