I Believe in Grilled Cheese By Kathleen Armstrong
After a long day at work, I find myself reclining in the driver’s seat of my 2016 red Chevy Spark. I am tired and dirty and watching the lights of passing cars stop and go in waves of green and red. Just like every night after work, while the radio hums a quiet Bon Iver tune, I unwrap a grilled cheese. And it is in that first bite that I feel warmth. I believe in grilled cheese. It feels silly to say that I hold faith in a sandwich, but I do. Because whenever I bite into a grilled cheese—my complimentary one free meal per shift—the world feels smaller. It’s a simple sandwich. At least one piece of cheese grilled on two slices of whatever bread is handy. And it makes me feel full. As human beings, there are holes inside of us. Empty spaces that keep us awake at night, leaving too much room for wandering thoughts and longing desires. I believe it is the purpose of the human experience to fill these spaces with the things that we love. Art, music, games, relationships, literature, films, and everything else worthwhile and beautiful. This is why I write. It is why I create and consume as much of the world as I can. I reach out and grab onto anything that might fit into the holes that leave me hollow and empty on bad days. Because being full is one of my favorite feelings in the world. But even so, there are times when everything worthwhile and exquisite is not enough. Times when everything feels much too complicated and confusing. Times where instead of filling the holes, the things I love only make them feel wider and all the more vast. As a kid, when my dad went away on business trips, my mom would make my siblings and me tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner. They were quick and easy and simple enough that even my sister’s picky tongue wouldn’t spit them back up. With dad gone, the house always seemed more empty. The world felt impossibly infinite. But when mom would cook, the comforting scent of grilled cheese made our home feel smaller. In moments when all that is most precious to me feels wretched and hopeless, I remember nights like those. Even now, almost a decade later, sitting in my car as the clock approaches 10 PM, the scent of melted American cheese carries a warmth that makes me feel at home no matter where I am.
I believe in grilled cheese.
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