What Lasts in the Cupboard Lasts

Did you know maraschino cherries last practically forever in the cupboard?

The jar in my cupboard has been there so long I didn’t bother to check the expiration date. I could be poisoned by an expired maraschino cherry, have my long life ended just like that, have it written that she just needed to have that garnish in her drink, never mind the cost.

But I survived.

We had a cocktail named the Black-Eyed Susan which had this and that and an orange slice and a maraschino cherry or two and we watched Journalism win the Preakness, coming from several lengths behind out of a scrum of horses to beat the favorite, whose name I can’t remember.

All the while, I was thinking of this writing prompt about sacrifices in my life. There aren’t any obvious ones. I didn’t give up the cherries or the crazy cocktail or watching the Preakness. I didn’t give up my education or my career or my identity. Everything I did, I did willingly. That includes losing my temper, acting the fool, doing too much for my kids and then too little, writing ridiculous things and solemn ones, quitting jobs and burning bridges, being a role model, and being somebody’s disappointment.

I know people who’ve sacrificed. My mother sacrificed her happiness so my father could realize his dream of owning his own business in another city. My father sacrificed his peaceful retirement so my mother could forget his name and how to dress herself in the privacy of her own home.

I might say, if asked in a different way, that I sacrificed my peace of mind when I became a parent. Then I’d feel compelled to offer evidence, show why my doomsday thoughts are worse than any other parent. But I don’t write about those things. They are off limits.

So, we’ll leave it at the cherries and their not having an expiration date.

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Photo by Gabriela Gutierrez on Unsplash