When the cookies are over


 

Finding art in trash Challenge: #11

It’s strange how certain things/beings/experiences, though unwelcome, crawl into our lives and become a part of it.  Like wrinkles. Or a new accent. It’s so organic, you would be a fool to resist it/them.

At Trader Joe’s my husband and I pick up something that isn’t on the shopping list. Laceys box of dark chocolate almond cookies by.  ‘It just happened,’ we tell ourselves.

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Fast forward to a week later. Our dinners end with a bite of the flat brown slab every night. We share one, I take a small bite, then he does. Then I do. And slowly, it becomes a habit. Our every dinner now needs a cookie. Like a sentence needs a full stop.

Our days are only complete with that little crunch of sweetness in the mouth. The cookie turns into a trophy for living the day, a refrain in the song called life, the horizon where our days end and nights begin…

And then one day, the last of the cookies is had.

Now, our dinners end without cookies. Together, we wriggle free of the yearning for sweet something, like a snake sheds its skin. Such is life. Even the clingiest of habits can be shaken off in time.

Until a new thing/being/experience, though unwelcome, crawls into our lives and becomes a part of it.







I made a showpiece to keep on top of our record player, with the cookie box. Used acrylic paint and red sketch pen.

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The illustration is inspired by a lino cut work by artist Mike Anderson.
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