Six (six!) years ago I wrote about cherry crisps and clafoutis. There was no clafoutis recipe, and that was the point. Thinking back once in a while, in various stolen moments throughout the ensuing years, I’d remembered the crisp recipe. (It’s good. Maybe make it soon?) But despite the dripping title of the post — Someday, a Clafoutis. — I hadn’t remembered the greater context of the prose. Guess what, you guys? It was all about moments of unfulfilled potential. The things we haven’t done. The people we haven’t become. The questions we haven’t answered.
Well. Last night I made a cherry clafoutis. And it was really good.
One box checked, then.