Straight Up Salad

The bars of the pack cut into my shoulder blades, the weight felt uneven and set my 15 year old frame off balance. My hiking boots were stiff and awkward on my feet, they reeked of new rubber. I had not practiced walking in them as the thirteen page instructional sheet suggested, and I felt the raw burning of blisters on both of my heels. Our adult guide held a compass out in front of his wire framed glasses and I wondered why he bothered as the destination was not N, S, E or W it seemed, but straight up. We all whined, half because we were in physical pain, and half because we were insecure and it made us feel a sense of camaraderie. The pain I felt was nothing compared to the fear born of knowing that this was only the first day of a 30 day hiking trip. We still had 3 states to make it through on this Appalachian trail. The sun had barely colored the woods with morning and my back felt as though it would break in two. My legs ached and my heels burned and I wanted it to be over. I was crabby. I hurt. I wanted it to end...now. The guide said it would get easier. I couldn't imagine how that would be possible at the time, but he was right. By the third day my pack felt lighter, and my attitude had markedly improved and I was singing my way along the trail, happily commiserating with my peers about foods missed instead of agony felt.

This place, of feeling like things will never get easier, of imagining your future and trying to live it all now, in one moment as the you are now, inexperienced, weak winged, cocooned, I sit on this stump of frustration often. Self-defeat and hopelessness stretch in every direction. The only way out is up, one step at a time, through every ache and pain.

I have not met the person I will be ten minutes from now, and I never will meet her, but I can help to build her. With every step she becomes easier to carry, every word clumsily practiced she becomes more eloquent, with every vulnerability risked she becomes more saturated with love. Like a tree grows to sunlight, she will grow in the direction of all the challenges that will come in ten minutes.

The first thing I ever cooked was scrambled eggs with lemon pepper. I will never forget the woman who lifted my tiny frame onto that chair and handed me a fork and an egg and some simple instructions. She held onto me so I would not fall as I clunked my fork around the bowl, eager to show her that I could be a big girl. Shaking the lemon pepper into the eggs was my favorite part, the reward for a job well done. I used a much larger fork this morning to mix the Greek yogurt into the diced vegetables. It was the kind of fork designed not for eating, but to go on a serving platter, proportionally over sized for my body. As I cut into the red onions, I remembered what it was like to stand before boxes of onions and potatoes when I worked as a prep cook on Saturdays. I was clumsy and inexperienced but eager to impress the chef with my speed. I reflect on these moments as I clear the remaining chopped veggies into the salad bowl.

Dice 1 green pepper, 2 large cucumbers (peeled), 10 radishes and 1/2 head of fennel. Add ~1 cup Greek yogurt and 4 baby red onions diced small. Squeeze in a little lemon juice, a sprinkle of salt and pepper and top liberally with lemon pepper.

Christina's vote: "This salad made me feel like I was being carried along by dolphins"