The Power of Applesauce

 

I cried in my applesauce today. (Is that a country western song?) It was a silly thing to do, but, never-the-less, there I was, sitting at my desk with silent tears slipping down as I tried to mentally deny it was happening. Thankfully, I'd stayed in my classroom during lunch rather than joining the staff in the teachers' room.

 

Even sillier was the fact that it was actually the applesauce, itself, that triggered my reaction. I hardly ever eat it, but after some dental work the day before it was one of the few requisite "soft foods" convenient to bring for my lunch. Perhaps it was the subconscious acknowledgement that the jar it came from was one recently opened for the express purpose of using it up before its expiration date since it had been purchased before Mom died. Indeed, it was her preferred variety, made from yellow delicious apples, sweetened, but no cinnamon. The last one I ever bought for her - never opened until now.

 

As I raised the spoon to my mouth, I was instantly sitting in front of Mom, watching her take a bite of applesauce just after I had placed a pill on it. We had gone through this slow, deliberate ritual every day for a year and a half. I thought, how ironic that I'm finishing her last jar of applesauce and will have no need of more. The prickle of tears began. Stop this, It's silly. I can't do this here.

 

With the next resolute spoonful to my mouth, I found myself spooning it to Betty and watching her smile back at me with her eyes. Now the tears were undeniable and unstoppable. The few minutes it took for me to search out a Kleenex was all the time I allowed the sorrow to flow, then I blew my nose and pulled myself back together.

 

Life must go on and it does. It's best that it does, too, because the alternative is to let our lives stagnate and with it our ability to cope and grow.

 

Who would have thought that applesauce could have such power? It won't always, of course, but today certainly caught me off guard. And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow it won't be in my lunch bag.