It just take the first bite

I was holding my mother’s hand (or perhaps my father’s). We were a troop of 4 children, a baby and a their parents. Exited as any child might be on their first flight (to be remembered). And although I am certain my siblings, with exception of my big sister, do not remember this flight, I hold on to this memory as clear as if it was yesterday. I recall the excitement, the curiosity and awes. I remember walking amongst a long line of tall and loud people. Our parents guiding us to stick together as we crossed what felt to me like a long passage towards the outside of the airport to go inside the airplane.

I did not expect to sit straight after crossing this passage. My idea of a plane, mainly conditioned by television, was that one must go outside and go up long stairs to enter a plane. Much like the idea that if someone was killed on television, that person was dead for real and it was all recorded by live cameras on the street. And such events were truly happening somewhere in the planet. And thus, my expectations of how boarding a plane would be, were replaced by an amazing realization of having magically teleported inside the plane.

We sat along the third row or so in the middle, so we could all sit together. We slept together against my mother and experienced the discomfort of sleeping inside the metal bird. Dinner arrived, and I was not the most pleasant child when it came to food. My diet was simple I did not wanted it disrupted. But alas, in this flight there was a type of chicken and a weird kind of rice I did not like. And there was cake, chocolate cake, this, to everyone’s surprise I also did not like. Mainly due to a joke once my brother made being just 4 on how chocolate resembled a less desirable object. In fact, he has done this countless of times when we were children.

But my stomach began to speak, to beg me to eat. After my mother gave up her attempts to feed me I stared at the cake with the same stubbornness I was born with. I gave in, as any hungry child would, and I took a piece, and then another, until I was satisfied. I did not loved chocolate instantly, it was a love that grew with time, and to this day I do not like chocolate cake. It took me that first bite to open up to a new world of possible flavors. And even after years gone by, it still take me a few bites to start loving something. This is how I’ve lived my life, one bite at a time, as long as I always take that first bite.

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