I’ll have my dessert first

Skyping with my friend and she said:

“Really you’re a woman of wonder, every time we think you’re settled, you throw everything away lie a child breaking her own favorite toy. Every time you make a royal mess of your life, and we think you’re about to hit rock bottom, you come up with a new trick and receive the gift of a new beginning. That guardian angel of yours sure is doing a good job!!”

I won’t smile my coy “not sure what you’re talking about” smile because I owe my friend the courtesy of an honest answer. Also because… as random as it may seem, I usually do things on purpose (not, mind you, always with a sense of purpose).

And what I do is…always eat dessert first.

My friend, that guardian angel you think is watching over me? It’s a demon. A demon for the girl of many demons… how appropriate. Anyway he’s my ride and that’s my secret.

Sometimes I think it’s a little unfair, so many people behaved better and reaped no rewards. A guardian angel would have taught me a few lessons in maturity, given me a hard time for my own good. But I’m a summer child and I eat desert first.

Verily, my demon, I love you, and I owe you a lot

Especially that time I was an asshole for driving so fast. You made sure only my pride and my car died on the highway that September afternoon.

11 years later, I’m still amazed my demon made sure I don’t kill anyone in that car crash and every time I come across a not-so-sober-asshole like me, I say a silent atheist prayer hoping their demon is as good as mine.

Thank you for protecting me every time I didn’t protect myself. Thank you for the kindness of strangers, all those amazing people, so many of them loved me and trusted me more than I deserve. There are favors I’ll never be able to return, but I often raise my glass to the blessings and goodwill they brought into my life.

Selfish is the only way to be when you eat desert first. That was an important lesson, one amongst many. That’s the lesson that still burns but I must admit it was well played. And it was worth it. Thank you for all the travels, the second chances, all those times I got to reinvent myself.

Thank you for the lovely crème brulée, the masterful mint sorbet, the very excellent lemon-meringue pie of my life. It’s a rare and wonderful privilege to eat at Lucifer’s table. A sweet thrill of many delights.

Of course, every party has to end.

When the time comes to bite into that disgusting bitter endive salad, with the nasty Roquefort dressing, I’ll do it with a smile I promise, and I’ll still be thankful for ever time I followed the fireworks, ran to the cliff, bungee-jumped with no bungee, and you made sure I landed on my feet.

If for every undeserved sweet moment, I must go through misery ten-fold, I’ll do it gladly. That time will come, probably soon and I don’t mind it, not one bit! Because I don’t want to savor the sweet when I’m 89 and asleep, when I’m in a rocking chair and ready to rest, I want dessert now.

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