For some odd reason, I seem to find comfort in Orange things.
I actually dislike the color orange, red, yellow … things in that “earth tone” category. I’m more of a “jewel tone” kind of person. So I don’t seek orange for the actual color. And not everything that is orange tastes like oranges. An example of that is carrots. See what I mean?
When I was little, I loved Orange Crush. If given the choice, I picked that every time. I grew up referring to all carbonated beverages as “coke”. I like Coke. If I wound up with a Coke, that was fine. But what I really wanted was Orange Crush.
Whenever I was with Daddy and we stopped at a convenience store, he would ask if I wanted something to drink and I would reply “Coke, please”. And he would always bring me Orange Crush. I didn’t even realize what was happening … I was saying one thing but he knew what I meant … until I have gotten older and remembered this. Recently I asked him about it. He just laughed and said, “I brought you Orange Crush because I knew that was what you really wanted.” How about that?! He was reading my mind and paying attention to what I liked. He is a good Daddy.
I have always loved the flavor of orange in juice and sodas. So they’re definitely on my list of comfort items (although I buy sugar-free/diet wherever possible). But I also seem to gravitate to other orange drinks/foods that seem to be comforting for me. When I feel bad and sickly and tired I seem to choose: orange crush, orange juice, cheese toast, cheddar cheese, cheese & peanut butter crackers, yellow grits with cheese in them, spaghetti-Os with cheese, orange yogurt, orange sherbet, carrots, Cheetos, Kraft Mac & Cheese, nectarines and peaches, etc. There’s more but I don’t need to create a complete list for you.
This is so weird.
When my husband was in Hospice, I was guzzling any diet orange sodas I could find and I ate so many Cheetos that my fingers were stained orange. My stomach was so upset those last few weeks before he died, the only thing I could keep down was Spaghetti-Os. My Momma was staying with me and she was so dismayed that I couldn’t eat anything “healthy” even though she was cooking good food for us all. But I would look at that food and feel so sick I would have to leave the kitchen. Then she would relent and make me Spaghetti-Os. Bless her heart.
I wonder what this orange-thing is all about. I wonder why, and when, it was that I associated “comfort” with “orange”. But I’m too tired and brain-weary to do anything about it or to investigate it thoroughly. I’m so zoned out right now in this zombie-widow-existence that I am just instinctively doing what works … buying Cheetos, cheese, and orange soda.
It takes what it takes.
Instant Widow 