My Banana Split

Returning to dorm living has been an adjustment.  My room is at the very end of the hall. The only advantage is that it's right next to a secret stairwell exit to the street. But there are quite a few challenges. For instance, navigating the 47-step long trek down the hall to the bathroom. Not only the obvious frustration of late-night emergencies, but any normal excursion: you have to plan ahead --ie bring the toothbrush on the way to the shower--because it's a long trip down the hall and back if you forget something you need. 

There's also the problem of feeding myself, having nothing but a mini-fridge to my name. So far I've done pretty well on granola bars and leftovers, but admittedly, I'll steal and collect extra food from events and save it for future meals. 

Last night, I stole a muffin and a banana from institute. Gold--that's two meals! This morning, when packing my backpack for the day, I carefully put my water bottle in the main bag (because it frequently falls out of the side pocket) and I put the banana in the side pocket. I ate the muffin on the way out the door for breakfast, and looked forward to the banana for lunch. 

But when I arrived at work, my banana was gone! I imagined it lost somewhere in the underground. Somewhere between the shuffle of two rush-hour subway trains, and the walk through busy city centers, my banana was lying on the ground. Trampled and smooshed beneath the city--a pile of white-yellowish, sad, lonely goop. Or perhaps it'd had been stolen. I hope by someone who was hungry and really needed a banana. Cause I was hungry and really wanted a banana. 

At snack time, one of my little girls is always allergic to the camp snack (gluten), so we get her own snack out of her lunch box every day. She frequently brings bananas. So I told her the saga of my own lost banana this morning, "Somewhere between my house and camp, trampled by the masses of morning-traveling workers, lies a small pool of mushy banana." She gave me a solid, eight-year-old quizzical side-eye. The one that says, "I think you're trying to be funny, but I'm not quite sure how to react." As I kept describing the scene of what I imagined to be the fate of my banana, ("Maybe someone picked it up and put it in a smoothie, or maybe it's in some historic, freedom-trail trash can...") she finally cracked into a smile--borderline giggle territory. 

Successful child-rearing day. 

When I arrived home, tired and hungry, I went up my secret stairwell to get to my room. 

There, on the steps, right outside my dorm, was my banana! A little older, a little wiser, a little browner than the banana I'd left this morning. Worn by time, heat, and the anxiety of having felt abandoned, my little banana and I had both gained life experience today. It stared back at me from the stair--a glorious reunion. 

Sometimes the things you fear are lost forever, are right back where you started. 

Or you're just an idiot and drop things, essentially right on your own doorstep.

Either way, it was delicious.