Melancholy Smoked Food | Weekly Short-Short Note

On the way home from nursery school, my daughter asked, "Mommy, what is smoked food?"

Walking along the road at dusk, holding hands. I remembered well that she had pointed at a pack of smoked cheese at the supermarket earlier.

"You use smoke to flavor things like cheese. It makes them taste a little more like an adult's treat."

My daughter's eyes lit up, and she said, "I want to try that at home, too."

That night, the kitchen was filled with smoke. We used an old pot and aluminum foil to make an improvised smoker. We lined up cheese and boiled eggs as best we could, and while looking at each other, we peered through the smoke. The finished cheese was a little burnt and certainly not perfect.

But my daughter took a bite and smiled.

"It tastes like happiness."

Ten years have passed since then. My daughter is no longer in this house.

For the first time in a while, I smoked some cheese on the balcony, just like we did back then. The smoke stings my eyes a little.

Taking a bite, that kitchen from that night comes back to me.

This isn't just cheese.
It is something smoked along with time and memories.

When I thought that, what drifted deep in my chest was nostalgia and a little bit of loneliness.
Like a fragment of time that will never return, it was a "melancholy smoked treat."