A Spoonful of Comfort

Unexpected joy doesn’t come with an expiration date. This reflection captures a simple but unforgettable moment — an act of kindness that arrived when least expected and stayed long after it was needed. It’s about how the smallest gestures can feed the soul, and how real comfort has a way of lasting.

11/9/20251 min read

Field Note: June 6, 2025- A Spoonful of Comfort

There it was, tucked behind a bag of rice: a jar of marshmallow fluff, its label a little faded but brimming with promise. I laughed—when did this even sneak into my life? That’s the pantry’s gift, though. It’s a keeper of surprises, a time machine in a cupboard. One look at that fluff, and I’m back in my mom’s Philadelphia kitchen, sticky fingers and all, plotting how to sneak an extra spoonful before dinner. Life was so simple then, wasn’t it?

Certain foods don’t just feed us—they carry us. For me, it’s Tastykakes, their crinkly wrappers whispering of summer stoops and shared secrets. Or Campbell’s tomato soup, steaming beside a grilled cheese on a gray day. Ritz crackers, stacked into tiny, defiant towers when no one was looking. These aren’t gourmet masterpieces. They’re better—little shortcuts to joy, to moments when the world felt kind and uncomplicated.

After the intensity of Naked in the Dark, I needed that kind of joy. So, I made a fluff-and-peanut-butter sandwich (yes, I’m still that kid), and each bite was like a warm hug from my younger self. The pantry’s funny like that—it doesn’t just hold food; it holds us, reminding us that happiness can be as small as a dusty jar or a crinkled wrapper.

So, tonight, I’m inviting you to rummage through your own pantry. What’s your “time travel food”? The snack that pulls you back to a moment when life felt lighter?

Field Note: Sometimes joy is hiding in the pantry—share this with someone who could use a little sweet reminder today.