i require very little in order to be happy, i have found.
when i was little, it was rare that my mother would buy cherries or strawberries. “they’re too expensive,” she’d say, pointing to $3 or $4 per pound price tags, and turning my attention to apples or bananas instead. today the price tags continue to shock me: $5, $6, $7 per pound. they are small luxuries.
today i opened the fridge to find a bag of cherries that my roommates bought the other day. and today i bought strawberries for slicing up on cereal. we are impoverished twentysomethings with rent and utilities and car insurance. but seeing these berries in the fridge, i thought: “we’re rich!”
today i allowed myself other luxuries, too. moments of self-indulgence more emotional than culinary. i allowed myself the luxuries of wistfulness, of yearning. strawberries and cherries for the soul. –maybe not as good for me as berries: maybe cinnamon buns or coffee cake. still, these luxuries are small things.
i didn’t feel enriched, exactly, for having the thoughts, but i felt satisfied somehow by allowing myself the luxury of thinking them for once.