I close my eyes, and I can see the tall clear glass on the table. Water dribbles down the sides as if the glass can feel the heat as much as I can and is sweating with me. Around the rim of the glass are sugar crystals that beckon the lips. Then the eyes are drawn to the deliciously cold ice that is quickly melting in the persistent sunlight. The mouth dries and yearns for water because it is reminded of the heat, but then the eyes bring the attention to the drink. This liquid is red, pure red. The red is so pure that I can tell the drink is sweet before my lips have even touched the glass. The red is more intense at the bottom of the glass, and the ice creates a beautiful gradient as it dilutes the top of the drink. I reach my hand toward the glass, then think better of it, and reach the other hand too. As my fingers grasp hold of the smooth icy surface of the glass, I can feel the chills run throughout my body from the sudden transfer of heat. I lift the glass just an inch or two off the table and slowly bring it to my face. I look down to get a bird’s eye view of the drink. The clear ice is bobbing within the redness, and the sugar rim makes the smooth glass look rough. As the ice cubes bob, they gently clink against each other and the glass, tickling the ears. I then exhale, close my eyes, close my mouth, and breathe in as hard as I can through my nose. I instantly smell the unidentifiable exotic fruits. I leave my eyes closed for a few more seconds to give my brain time to process the new information and let my breath go back to its normal rate. I open my eyes and bring the glass slowly toward my mouth until the rim of sugar touches my slightly open bottom lip. Closing my eyes again, I tilt the glass and take a large sip. My tongue is now exposed to an indescribable explosion of flavors, a magnification of the sensation that I felt in my nostrils. I am experiencing a level of sweetness that I never knew existed. My eyes open wide, and I reluctantly swallow.
I feel the muscles in my face tense, because I cannot help but smile. My body desires to feel the sensation again – the sensation of sweetness so sweet that you have to swallow before it becomes too much to bear. I find that my mind is torn. One side desires to chug the entire glass at once, while the other wants to preserve the heavenly drink forever. I look down and glare at the juicy sweetness. I decide to compromise with myself by taking slow large sips appreciating the unique experience in every single sip. The glass is now empty except for the red-tinted ice. Satisfied and completely cooled, but partially disappointed from the sight of emptiness, I set the tall glass back down on the table. I open my eyes and bring my mind away from the memory that took place years ago.
This occurred when I was six-years-old. My family was living in France at the time, and we were taking a vacation to Morocco. We had just arrived in this foreign land and decided to rest at a restaurant, so we ordered the fruit punch. The waitress brought the drinks to the table, and that is when this story began. I could have written about the entire vacation and the wonderful cultures and people that I encountered, but when I think of Morocco, I do not first think of the journey, or the people, or the markets. I relive this specific experience, which triggers the rest of the memories of Morocco to flow back into my mind.
All other important moments of my life are attached to experiences like this one. Yes, the experiences usually involve food, because the food experiences are the ones I remember most vividly. For instance, I remember the green Jell-O pack my mom let me have when she was in the hospital after giving birth to my little brother and sister. The memory of the lime flavored Jell-O automatically brings my mind to my younger siblings. When I think of living in France, the first things I think of are the chocolate-covered waffles my parents bought me from the street carts. With each bite I took, I smeared more chocolate on my face, which my parents had to wipe off before we entered the beautiful museums and cathedrals.
Throughout my life at college, I hope to create experiences that are so special that I remember them through triggers similar to the trigger memory of drinking the Moroccan fruit punch. I want to be a part of an environment that is truly unforgettable. When I look back at the period of time that I went to college, I should be able to remember the most important moments – the moments that had the most impact on my life – through smaller, seemingly insignificant experiences, because the minor moments make the major moments extraordinary.