Memories may fade as distance grows wider between ourselves and our young selves, but one thing remains constant: if we dig down deep into the recesses of our experiences, hold light up to the seeds of our current moment, brush off the dust, we might find something worth writing about.
“‘Enjoy the açai thing,’ I say, again mistakenly mispronouncing with the word with hard ‘c.’ She laughs in my face. I smile back. Maybe she thought it was cute? Maybe her finger slipped when she hit the ‘no tip’ button on her phone? Maybe the hundreds of other 20-somethings working in Midtown offices that I delivered to that summer accidentally tapped the ‘no tip” button as well?”
“It wasn’t that I was self-conscious; rather, I recognized how ridiculous the scene must have looked. I was half dressed with tussled frosted tips and drooping bags under my eyes. They were fully uniformed, standing at least half a foot above me and simply staring at my unkempt figure.”