The Bluestocking 2023-24

Kelly Wang Grade 12

Waffling

Laughter. Blue skies. Children trailing each other. It was a cold, windy afternoon in Amsterdam and the clouds had fogged up. Nearby vendors sold freshly made waffles, with a dab of homeyness and the smell of your grandmother’s kitchen wafting through. You zip up your coat because the wind has suddenly grown stronger. Fierce. Intense. Hands in your pockets searching for warmth but only to find the crumbles of your leftover snack earlier on the plane that morning. Thinking of the plane makes your head throb. Mind feels groggy. Sickened. Whoosh! Someone almost knocks you over on your way to the cafe. Would a faceplant have made me famous? You quickly dispel your inane inner thought. They apologize, subtly using their palms, but not as impassioned as your fellow Canadian neighbour would. You feel lost. You look through the selection of items on the rack: peanut butter, stale sandwich— ooh! Tomato soup. You looove tomato soup. Your stomach gurgles with excitement (or is it pain) at the impending inhalation of liquid tomato. Your nostrils flare as the irresistible scent swiftly encapsulates your entire being, your soul, spirit— which are instantly lifted. You forget it was a cold day. You forget about the remnants of the cookie in your pocket. All you could feel in that moment was home.

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