Kitchen time machine.

I sit down in the kitchen with my breakfast, everyday, and I talk to the trees outside the window, to the green mountains in the back, to the wind, about all the things I remember from my childhood. How naughty I was. All the times I lied to my parents or did wrong things knowing they were wrong... I must have been a horrible daughter, at times. I was a weird child. And grew up into a weirder teenager. And then by magic I became a decent adult. I think (maybe that's how it's supposed to be). I remember clearly my mother telling me I would someday pay my dues when I would have had kids of my own.

But then I come across some other memories... opening my lunch box and finding always something different, some surprise, sometimes there would be a twinkie - do they have twinkies here in Italy? Everyday a different fruit juice... but the most delicious thing, that sort of imprinted the taste of my childhood and was a lunch box classic, was this sandwich of thinly sliced bread, a veil of mayonnaise on either side and ham, sometimes also cheese. I tried to make myself one repeatedly but that taste somehow is never there. And I talk about and remember all these things because I'm gonna have to tell you all about it. And there are so many memories I am collecting for you...because you'll have to savour your childhood well for some flavors and smells, and sometimes some people too, remain in the past.

And in just a little time I won't be talking to myself in the kitchen anymore.