Last year I had a boyfriend whom I cared for very much. He was a Seventh Day Adventist. Being the Saggitarius that I am, I was willing to try out new religions and from what I had witnessed within his church was that we believed many of the same things. Except that it was a bit more strict seeing God as a God that got angry when we did wrong, while I was always taught that God is my friend and He doesn’t get angry because He already knows us and what we’ll do. The strictness confused me because I was raised in a Lutheran church that derived from a Catholic church, which in my mind had always been considered the most strict. But going to church on Saturdays seemed pretty logical because God did indeed rest on the Seventh Day, and not watching demonic movies or listening to Lil’ Wayne on the Sabbath made sense to me. He seemed to always have a bible quote ready when I questioned why he did things, that supported literally what he was saying while I was always one to read in between the lines.
After a few Saturdays in his church we sat down for breakfast one day, and we ordered our food. When it came time to pay, he told the waiter it would be on two checks. When I confronted him on it, he said “I refuse to pay for pork”, looking down at my empty plate where two thick slices of bacon once were. He said whatever verse was relevant and I was instantly offended. He not only refused to pay for it, but he wouldn’t touch me until the sun went down, when I would be considered “clean” again. So, being the lover that I am, I did the unthinkable, I gave up pork. It was one of the hardest tasks that I had ever done. I resented him for it. My mom was furious because I was giving up something that made me so happy, something that made me, Karissa. Bacon had contributed to my childhood. Inevitably, this, upon MANY other things lead to the end of our relationship. Not only because he wanted me to change, but because one day I looked at him and realized that he was someone and something that I could never be with because our views were so different.. because he viewed me as filthy when I simply indulged in a food that I was in love with. Now today, as I was sizzling up a pan of Bacon, happy as can be, doing what I want and being care free I think of him and become proud of myself for giving it up for love, but for taking it back for the love of myself.
When I sat down to eat this bacon at our dining room table, I bit into one chewy slice and a tear rolled down my cheek simultaneously. Not because of my ex, but because in the bite I felt my childhood.
…I felt my grandmother’s house full of my cousins sleeping in the morning as I climbed over them where they had dropped the night before. I would always be one of the first ones up because I was always one of the first ones to fall asleep. I would drag my feet into the kitchen where Grandma would always be cooking and sure enough there would be a gigantic stack of bacon. I would take a slice and munch while talking to her and her hideous Siamese cat. I’d click on the t.v. in the dining room to One Saturday Morning…
The Bacon spoke to me. Call it what you want, but that bacon speaks words of wisdom. Words of wisdom that I listen to, and have led me to the decision to go to Michigan in a couple weeks. The Bacon not only showed me my childhood, but also reminded me of how much my grandma loves and needs me. The bacon reminded me of how lucky I am that my Grandma is still alive and well, and that she still lives in the same house, with the same stove top, and that this forth of July, I can sit at the same table in the same seat and watch Grandma cook bacon in the morning at the same time.