The only thing separating me from a completely vegan diet is a good, homemade, grilled cheese sandwich.
For the past two years, my body has been free of most animal products thanks to my vegetarian lifestyle. As much as I would love to, I just can’t seem to give up that last animal product. Cheese.
If I had my way, I would eat grilled cheese for every meal, every day. There’s just something about biting into gooey, yellow cheese, protected by a layer of buttered up wheat bread on both sides.
As I watch the butter sizzle on the stove, I check the time on our microwave. 12:41 p.m.
I could almost swear that taking my first bite transports myself back to the days of Power Puff Girls and brainstorming ways to avoid taking naps.
Suddenly I am no longer the omniscient 15 year-old I like to believe I am.
I am four years old again, eating lunch with my grandma who babysat me in the daytime. I didn’t have to face the wrath of other screaming kids and fighting over toys at a daycare, thanks to her selfless personality. We’re eating grilled cheese on the porch and chatting about cats, or something. That’s probably what four-year-olds like to talk about.
I take another bite and watch a squirrel run up a tree. I take this moment for granted, assuming there would be a hundred more grilled cheese sandwiches and conversations with my grandma. Four-year-olds don’t quite understand how short and finite life is. Four-year-old Emma just wanted to grow up and be a teenager just like Lizzie McGuire.
I continue to devour my sandwich as I develop nostalgia for a moment 10 years later with my best friend, Daisy.
It’s a Friday night, and we are listening to James Taylor on vinyl over a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches. In true teenager fashion, we whine and complain about upcoming tests and unfair parents.
As we conquer our existential crises together, I know in this moment that I will always have Daisy’s shoulder to cry on and we will have each other’s backs for a long time. That thought of all the body parts reminds me of how I initially went over to her house to study for a human anatomy test. I have always been a fabulous procrastinator. I swallow the last bite of my simple sandwich, and bam! I’m snapped back to reality.
Confronted with the truth, I remember that I’m a learning, growing, intuitive 15-year-old who is bound to make mistakes.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to see things from a greater perspective. At such a fragile time in my life, something as simple as being required to come home early on a weekend tends to feel like the end of the world. But I also know that comparing others’ struggles to my own does not make mine invalid.
In this real and raw moment in the present, it is blatantly obvious that I will perpetually search for the next great adventure. I continue to strive towards the answers. Although I will never be able to answer the millions of questions floating around in my mind, I never cease to want them. Sometimes, I just want to know how to make the perfectly golden grilled cheese.
Other times, I wonder how I can advocate for animals’ rights while simultaneously enjoying my daily grilled cheese sandwich.
I check the clock again, and it’s only 12:46.
I take a deep breath and finish getting ready for work.
