3 ▫️No more room in the trunk

Last night I had the opportunity to work a small housewarming party in Napa. I was one of twelve people hired to serve, bartend, bus tables, and clean post-party. The guest list was largely wine families from the West Coast: catering was managed by an East Coast charcuterie of some notoriety. 

Between the appetizer course and the entree service, the caterer had the wait staff clear the charcuterie table and directed us to “throw it all away”. I wanted to cry as I watched piles of paper-thin slices of speck and coppa hit the trash can. Heaping bowls of oil-cured olives. Thick wedges of hard and soft cheeses. Full loaves of bread from “the best bakery in the country” (said the caterer as he tossed it in the can). 

A friend explained to me later that there are liability issues surrounding food that is left out. The caterer is protecting the guests, himself and his company by removing any possibility of food poisoning when he throws out food that has been sitting out over a certain period of time. And even if the food is cured, and the risk of illness is low, he may be playing it safe from a legal standpoint. Still…as I stared at the wheel of Brie lying in the garbage, I mourned it. 

It's so hard to let good things go. 

I woke up this morning craving Brie. I settled for brunch at a marvelous little place in St. Helena, and because I ate so little last night during the party, I was pretty hungry. I started with a latte. Next up was a chilled Bosc pear and berry gazpacho with a basil drizzle. I finished that quickly, and moved on to an heirloom tomato caprese salad. I took two bites, and then felt an instant nausea that sent me discreetly but quickly to a restroom. 

My first thought? “What if I ate something bad at the party?” 

In my defense, I was NOT digging through the garbage in an effort to salvage the food I so dearly wanted to save. But I admit, I was skimming the dishes on their way to the trash: a couple of spiced Manzanilla olives, a stolen pinch of Brie, a handful of shelled pistachios. The fact that my mind went immediately to that memory drove home the importance of the caterer’s policy. I’m relatively sure I didn't contract a foodborne illness last night, but this is a truth:

A good thing isn't good if there’s something bad hiding in it. 

How many things have I held on to that I should have let go? I'm sure that there are plenty of physical things that fall into that category, and there are also plenty of things that aren't tangible that likewise fit that bill. They're called regrets. 

Today, as I recline on the couch in my friends’ living room in St. Helena, sipping La Croix and hoping the bubbles will help the queasiness, I decide to stop holding on to regrets. I know we all have them, and I don't expect that I will suddenly no longer have the inclination to feel sorry for any of my actions or words simply because I decide not to. Regrets are part of the human package because we all say and do things we wish we hadn't. But when we keep those words and actions out, displayed on the table of our minds, and we look at them over and over again, maybe taste them now and again, they can make us sick. 

This journey of mine is a long one. I simply don't have room in the trunk to haul around negative feelings about the things I said to a friend, for which I apologized and she forgave me, over a year ago. Nor is there space for the doubt I might feel over a decision I made as a high school student, even though it colored my life for years afterward. Big and small, experiences like these are automatically part of our baggage. We carry them around with us. They become a part of us. But I am choosing to put them all in prettier luggage, and to leave out that heavy burden of regret that is unnecessary, painful, and counterproductive. 

No doubt, at some point in the future, I will feel regret for something I do or say — maybe even sooner than I would like. I will apologize, if that's called for. I will change and/or fix whatever I can. And then I will cut myself a break and cut loose the regret…and maybe reward myself with some Brie. (I don't know if you could tell, but I love Brie.)