At the end
of my days, as I lie in a hospital bed with only a few hours left before I'm
called to leave the building, the question may be asked:
“After all
these years, what was the best part? Is there one single moment in your long
journey that immediately pops up and comes to mind?”
Certainly,
you would expect me to speak with great love for my daughters, my wife, maybe
some of those wonderful dogs along the way… But as my family is gathered
bedside in hushed silence, somber and hanging on every word I manage to get
out, I would have to say:
“That piece
of Salmon I had for breakfast on July 4th, 2001. It was fresh caught, wild.
Lightly dusted with Paul Prudhomme Seafood Magic, and fried in olive oil with
the help of my Grandmother’s cast iron pan. Drizzled with a squeeze of fresh
lemon, I can almost taste that crispy skin, so fat with flavor, layered,
luscious flaky bites of delicious Salmon that transitioned into the very rare
center, almost like sushi, creamy and exquisite.”
“Oh, and
Carla, you Ruth and Hannah are wonderful. Please tell the dogs I said goodbye.
But man, I wish I still had a picture of that Salmon to show you guys before I go!”
-----------------------------------
Fade out.
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