A French Fix

In the dark...alone in my kitchen. Stillness. A dim town departed, typically teeming this time of night. The eerie crimson light smoldering in the background. I look for comfort, and I find my thoughts on my family. I'm on my own now but they have trained me well.

In the dark...I fumble and feel my way around the refrigerator. Grabbing objects as I recognize their packaging. Clumsily I sit down and begin to assemble the ingredients in the shadow of my table. I slice a piece of brie and can feel the knife crackle through the rind. Lifting up and biting the spectral slice of cheese.. the pungent aroma and soft creamy flavor find me in the dark simultaneously. I uncover a bottle of wine and an opener after an additional trip into the dim depths of my kitchen. The pop of the cork fills the dark with a brief sound of life. I sit back and look where I think my meal is. Ham and brie sandwiches and a French table wine. I feel calm and comforted...I'm ready.

In the dark...I lift my glass...and toast the dark. I toast myself, my family. I toast the firemen. I toast my bread, wishing it were toast. And then...I toast the French, who I imagine would have a similar solution to this fix. Things are never too dire as long as there's time to enjoy some food, and have a drink.