The Flavors of Happiness

It's amazing what kind of things you think about when showering. While contemplating along the randomness in my head, from what to clean, what to eat for lunch, what to wear to leave the house, what to do with my hair, what stores to look at and other more personal things like whether I should shave my legs or not; I found myself reminded of a certain flavor which my tongue don't exactly adores but my heart just melt for. And I had to share it.

It was 2009, my first Christmas with my boyfriend. The amazing-ness of it all, and how I felt like a princess floating up the tram stairs towards her prince is still engraved in my mind, like a child playing fortress and seeing an actual fort instead of all the messy blankets around the living room. Well, I couldn't see the grey, cold and dark tram tunnel with all the people walking by. I only saw a cloud, and a man, who at that moment, I decided to spend every living moment with until the very end. I have to admit in long distance relationships you always have doubts, even when it's all pretty and pink. But at that moment, I was determined. It was Christmas, and I was happy, immensely happy, more that I could have asked for a first Christmas. I could see myself in a dress floating on a cloud towards him and his charming elegant smile. Well, I was so happy, and the dinner was so delicious, which also added to the happiness, that well dessert came. And my first reaction was to look at it, the red juiciness surrounded by a vanilla wonder. A pear.

One of my least favorites fruits, always dry and flavorless. But there was something different about this pear. It was red, and it looked juicy. I was scared to try it, as well, by then I was just learning to try new things. I wasn't sure I would like it. But I had to eat it because my boyfriend put so much effort into it. And then I tried it. The flavor wasn't wow, but it was pleasant enough for me to get through it, the vanilla pudding helped. I ate it, as much as I could. The texture was just weird as always with something new. The flavor I could get used to after a few bites. And back then, I decided I didn't liked Stoofperen that much.

Back in my country I found myself craving it, and I didn't knew why as I repeat, I hate pears. Until I came back for another Dutch Christmas. And not in Christmas, but somewhere around winter, my boyfriend made it again. When I ate it my heart stopped as I concentrate on the flavor. Memories came rushing through me like a bucket of warm sunshine confetti. And then my heart jumped, happy, exited, just so happy, so so happy, I decided then I loved the dessert more than anything now. The flavor, happiness, the texture, hugs. It's amazing, how memories can change the way you perceive something, how they make you love it even though it's not something you usually do. Everyone has one, that one flavor that brings back all those happy moments of your life, if not the happiest. The sad thing is, and probably convenient, I am only allowed to have it in winter, when the pears are in season. And so, like a little kid waiting the whole year for Christmas and gifts, I wait for it, to taste happiness again.

she writes