Scoops of Green

Occasions to celebrate was a fleeting feeling savored for nostalgia.

Little me would be treated to the all-you-can-eat seafood buffet.

The adults nodding off to my screaming background fodder.

It was the joy of running around, throwing claws, chowing crawfish.

Satisfied bellies didn’t end entirely, save for a crevice to desserts.

The encore, my choice, would be that color at the end of the line.

That verdant dairy I hadn’t had daily greatly brought joy to my belly.

And I discovered green tea ice cream.

That taste was a luxury, a rarity of a commodity to young me.

On droughts being the days of usuality, I longed for that bittersweet.

That treat was a silky smoothie that gleefully swam through my buds.

Chance had me at a gathering, and there, I saw that tub full of green.

Like a monsoon of memories flooding that feeling back atop my tongue,

I scooped a big spoonful of that paste onto my plate and into my mouth.

Tears rolling down my eyes, a white flash that froze my brain, I hollered.

And I discovered wasabi.