Freedom And French Fries
They say you never fully appreciate something until its gone. After twelve plus years behind bars, the day I walk out of these doors I will experience a joy that few will ever know. Everything evens out in the end. Over a decade of struggle and hardships will place me in a position to feel a high that could never be equaled otherwise.
Most of us will know what its like to be broke first and appreciate money later. We will all know the satisfaction of food after feeling hunger. The pleasure of sex after virginity... These are all mile markers throughout life when we get to experience appreciation through absence. But how many will ever have their freedom taken away for years and years and then be lucky enough to have it handed back all at once?
Imagine what would fill your thoughts if you were starving for twelve long years. Everyday, all day, you'd think of food. Every kind of food. You'd remember every restaurant you'd ever sat at. Every take-out joint, and fast food spot you'd ever eaten at.
You'd spend your mornings planning your perfect breakfast. You'd weigh the perks of every type of egg: scrambled, over easy, sunny side up, hard boiled, soft boiled, poached, fried, pickled, deviled. And that's to say nothing of omelets. You'd pile on imaginary bacon, sausage patties and links, Canadian bacon and steak.You'd take your time deciding which type of syrup to use on your imaginary pancakes and waffles. You'd butter your wheat toast and spread grape jelly on your biscuits.
You'd do the same for lunch in the afternoon and dinner at night. You'd meticulously plan your perfect meal. Which would change every time another craving hit. You'd rate your favorite types of food by country. You'd look at pictures of black Angus cheeseburgers and New York style pepperoni pizza and you'd salivate like Pavlov's dog.
Living in this obsessive state would become slow torture. So you'd swear off thinking about food. You'd do your best to forget house special lo-mien noodles with soy sauce and hot mustard. You'd reject sushi and seared sesame tuna from your mind. You think about anything but sweet glorious food.
This charade might last for some time but it wouldn't be long before the smell of chicken and steak fajitas with fresh pico de gallo would trigger an avalanche of Tex-Mex related memories. You'd come to grips with the futility of ignoring what you were missing, what you need for life, and what every cell in you being is screaming for. At this point you'd sit and think about every meal you'd taken for granted and you'd grow to hate yourself for such ignorance in the face of something so obviously important. Next you'd want to yell at the top of your lungs what you'd learned, so that this under appreciation would never happen again, to anybody. The thought of all those people out there throwing away extra tater tots, slightly stale donuts, and cold pizza would drive you crazy. You'd want to grab everybody who's blind to the beauty of food and show them what they're missing.
To pay homage, you'd write poems about pastries, compose songs about milk shakes, and pen epics about cheese. You'd get tattoos of buffalo wings and cup cakes to ensure you'd never forget.
And after everything was said and done, and understood the struggle from every angle, you'd realize that without the hunger you'd never have truly grasped the meaning of food and the purpose of eating. You'd come to love the hunger pains for the appreciation they awoke in you. You'd grow to be grateful for your sunken in cheeks and exposed ribs for the understanding of nutrition.
And then, when you'd reached an edible enlightenment; you'd be at peace with your position and at one with your hunger. You'd finally be able to sit and wait for the twelve years to come to an end so you could finally eat with an appreciation worthy of the food in front of you.
And in that moment when the silver lid is lifted from the plate revealing what you'd spent twelve long years waiting, planning, and wishing for you, you'd experience intensity beyond words. And in that first bite you'd taste the essence of the universe and you'd know beyond belief that you'd never take something so beautiful for granted ever again...
This isn't merely a metaphor. I've gone through this relationship with every aspect of life while behind bars; women, food, music, family, shopping, clothes, cars, conversations, experience, technology, Love and everything else that's been taken away, until I finally gained a true understanding. It's not just food, because Freedom encompasses it all. And as I've learned the lessons, gained the understanding, and acquired the appreciation, I find myself at the halfway point waiting for my twelve years to come to an end.
And when I think about walking out those doors after all that time, my knees get shaky, electricity runs up my spine, and butterflies dance in my stomach, and I can't help but feel blessed at the impossibly rare and incredibly hard earned chance to reach the loftiest of heights in this human experience: rebirth, redemption, and another chance at life...Who gets that chance?... Not many my friends...Not many...and as I push through those doors, into that overwhelming experience of new found freedom, I swear I'll never forget that feeling...about Freedom or french fries…