There is a salad so miraculously delightful that
the entire girl’s lacrosse team has taken to calling it “Jesus Salad”. It is of
Asian origin, containing broccoli slaw, various nuts and dry ramen
noodles. Luckily, my mother holds the
recipe and has been making it for team dinners, barbecues, etc. for as long as
I can remember. Not so luckily, I have not been able to enjoy Jesus Salad to
its full potential ever since the summer of 2004.
On one fateful night,
otherwise known as the last day of school, there was an extravagant neighborhood party
with burgers, hot dogs, and yes, Jesus Salad. As I indulged in the food before
me, I wondered what the arriving summer would bring. The soiree was complete
with volleyball nets, a zip line, and water guns. When I finally returned home,
my belly was full of wonderful food and my school alarm clock was officially
turned off for the season. I slept easy enough until the clock struck midnight
and my lovely dreams were interrupted by an outbreak of retching. This
continued every hour until there was nothing left in my hollow stomach to expel. After my last purge, I said a final goodbye to the salad as I would not be enjoying its tasty splendor anytime soon. Although I suspect the hamburger of this wickedness, I was never able to
appreciate the sweet savor of Jesus Salad ever again.
