A Sentimental Menu

It felt like the fanciest of silks. The way my hand was holding the menu felt like I was holding the silk pillow that I cherished, the one that made sure my face stayed clean and acne free. I never thought that anything could feel the same way my special pink silk pillow felt, but this menu proved otherwise.

I must have stared at the calligraphy that read Secret Garden for an eternity before actually opening it. But how could I not? They were the most beautiful words I had ever seen. The first letter of each word was made up of big, elegant swoops. Whorls of tiny pink and purple watercolor lilies were etched into the paper, weaving in and out of the words, dancing along the lines. Tendrils of carefully drawn vines flowed along the sides of the letters, paving a path for the flowers to follow. Tiny buds rested next to gradient leaves, the dark green a beautiful pairing with the bright colors of the flowers. The actual letters themselves shimmered when I tilted the menu to the light.

It looked modern, but vintage at the same time. It was a simple but attractive design, almost like a siren luring someone into deep waters. I traced my finger against the ever so slightly crinkled paper, cherishing the feeling that flooded my fingertip, threatening to explode into tiny fireworks. A sense of warmth and familiarity came over me, making my body tingle with spikes of energy.

The cover of the menu was outlined by a thick chestnut colored border. The brown was as warm as honey, sturdy as oak, and as inviting as a warm fire on a cold December day. I moved my finger from the paper to the border, and was surprised at what I discovered. The sensation was similar to the one I feel when I dip my hand in the river outside my parent's house. Dewey, magical, sleek.  Almost as if it was smattered with drops of iridescent rain. 

It gave me deja vu from when I was younger, playing with my sister in the forest that was right outside our backyard. Touching the sycamore trees, pretending to be fairies, flying in and out of the shade of the trees, and feeling the sharp pine cones nudge our feet. The pacifying swoosh of wind that played with my hair, grounding me. Playing hide and seek in the rich dirt with wood chips scattered around. My sister always had a way with animals, so we almost always had an encounter with a squirrel. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we would come across a deer munching on a patch of grass. We even went when it rained. That was the best time to go! That forest was my sacred place growing up. I used to go whenever I needed space, when I needed to decompose. 

Then it hits me, why I'm so drawn to this menu. The textures, the design, the flowers on the name of the restaurant, it all reminds me of my childhood. The lilies are almost identical to the ones Mama always kept in the living room so that the house would always look and smell nice for visitors. She went to the farmers market every Sunday to buy a fresh batch of lilies. Sometimes, she would cut some of the pretty white ones we grew in our backyard. 

The crinkly texture of the paper reminded me of the late nights I had to spend studying for my AP Lang tests. Those long, grueling hours, fueled only by energy drinks and dried mango snacks. Staying up past midnight every night before a test, cramming as much work in as I could, and being drained during the entirety of actually taking the test. After senior year, I had to fill up two whole trash bags with that crinkly English paper. 

When I finally decided to open the menu so I could see what choices were put out for me for the evening (because I was actually quite hungry) I let out an audible gasp. The food sounded incredible. Everything from sushi to salads were teasing me, alluring me into the essence of their tastiness. And, every item on the menu was a food that I loved growing up.

I could barely process what was happening as my eyes rapidly scanned the two pages of pure nostalgia. I was vaguely aware of a woman walking up to me with a notebook in her hand, approaching my table quickly. My eyes briefly glanced up at her as she placed a bottle of iced water on my table, two sprigs of mint floating at the top. A drop of condensation was running down the iced glass. 

"Hello," she said. "My name is Amy. I'll be your server for today. Can I get anything started for you?" she gently flicked her honey blond hair over her shoulder.

I looked down at the menu again, and I was instantly absorbed into the beauty of it. The intricate way that everything was worded, the descriptive definitions of each meal, and the way that it emanated pure beauty shocked me. But most of all, the way that it captured the essence of my youth was absolutely mind numbing, almost eerie.

A light chuckle arose from behind me. I turned my head to find Amy smiling at me, looking almost amused at my expression. "I understand," she said. "The menu catches everyone off guard. Something about it just pulls you in, huh?"

 I smiled and laughed. "I guess so," I responded, trying not to tell her that my attraction to the menu was probably so much more than the attraction most people had. It was a connection between two eras of my life. 

After deliberating on what to get for a very long time, I ended up ordering a chopped salad and filet mignon. The smell of the steak was intoxicating, almost addictive. I couldn't eat faster if I tried. When I finished my meal, the check came with three minty lifesavers. I paid the check and  looked at my server.

Confidently, I said, "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to take this menu home with me."