It was just another rainy day at Kutztown. My roommate Austin had lost his wallet so I decided to be a good friend and buy him Chick-Fil-A for lunch that day. Per usual, he was extremely excited because who wouldn’t be for free food? Even better, who wouldn’t be excited for Chick-Fil-A?!
11 A.M. rolls around. The free hour. I am staring at the beauty that is Chick-Fil-A, the scent of those waffle fries surrounds the Academic Forum. I pick a table and head over to wait in line for what feels like hours. I inch through the line with every customer served, my mouth is watering. I order myself a large fry because I know I could eat seven of them if I wanted too. Austin orders, Scott hands him the bags and we head back to our seats.
That’s when tragedy strikes. On Austin’s walk back, a bag left his grip. I hear it hit the floor and fear turning around to see the damage that has been done. All along the floor, I see what could have been the most delicious fries in my life. I hold back tears, watching him pick up the wasted potatoey goodness. I mourn the loss; it hits me hard. I didn’t get to appreciate them the way they deserved. I didn’t get to dunk them in ketchup, meshing the flavors on my tongue for ultimate satisfaction.
I look at Austin, he can see the heart break in my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed help, we could have saved them…” He apologized, he knows how much pain I must be in. I don’t want to forgive him, but I do.
That day, I learned that bad things happen to good people and great things can be gone in the blink of an eye.
So please, treasure your Chick-Fil-A. Hold your bag close and don’t let it fall. Every fry deserves to be enjoyed, so please stay safe with your bags.
To my fries: I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry we couldn’t have met. For the short time I knew you I loved you, I will never forget you.
4/5/17. A date I will always remember.