Full Circle

Once, eating porridge was a torturous affair.
It looked like curd.
It tasted like coagulated retch.
It was either too thick or too watery. Too hot or too cold. Too salty or too bland.
The perfect food to induce puke and tears as i coerced it down.
Meant for the sick, it made me sick downing it.
I agonised trying to force it down. Adults antagonised trying to force it down me.

For a good ten years after those nursery days where porridge was the staple food for meals, I stayed clear of it, avoiding it at all cause.

Never would I have thought I would come back to embrace it in such a big way now.
To queue for hours to relish a bowl of this tradition.
To take in the subtle whiff when its served
To savour the silky gruel running down the throat
To be soothed and calmed from the wet and the rain by its warmth
To be nourished by something so simple

Taste and perspective.
How they permutate, change and switch sides.
How they can reconcile differences at times and yet fuel the differences to tear it all apart at others
How they can make one swoon and fall head over heels one moment and run away in disgust the next

I so like to rush things sometimes.
To talk myself into embracing something/someone.
Tricking myself to resent some other things/people.

Everything in its time. God makes sure of that.
I just need to take one step at a time.