The joy of finding the missing cheese

Some days, and they are rare, I feel like I'm at my best. Yesterday was one of those days. I ran a few errands that were on my list, made a doctor's appointment, and made sure our youngest son had what he needed for his eighth grade dance.

I even made it to the grocery store and had everything we needed for taco night.

If there were awards for a productive mom's day, I figured I'd get at least a mention, if not a nomination.

Then, as I started to make dinner, I couldn't find the cheese. I had shredded lettuce, diced tomatoes and onions, a bowl of refried beans, sour cream, freshly warmed tortillas and shells, and enough taco meat for a feast. I even made Spanish rice. But there was no cheese.

I don't know about your family, but you might as well give up on taco night if there's no cheese.

I remember buying some at the store, but couldn't find it anywhere. I rummaged through my empty grocery bags to make sure I hadn't missed them while unloading them. I searched the refrigerator. I asked my husband if he saw any cheese while he was helping put things away.

The cheese was nowhere to be found.

I traced and retraced my steps, and finally thought about opening the freezer. There, next to the ice cream sandwiches, was the missing bag of shredded cheese.

Phew. It was frozen, but the taco meat was hot enough to melt it. And I didn't have to go back to the store or persuade anyone to try tasting tacos without cheese.

A taco dinner without cheese isn't a crisis. But eating cheese with our dinner was better, even if the cheese was a little frosty. And discovering cheese after resigning myself to a dinner without it made it even better.

When we lose something – or think we have lost it – we cherish it all the more. I thought this while dropping our youngest son off for his eighth grade dance last night. His older brother missed events like that because of Covid. So driving to school to pick up a happy but tired teenager, whose throat hurt from shouting with his friends and whose feet hurt from dancing, was all the more wonderful . I soaked in every detail.

Life is busy and life is beautiful. There are social events for eighth graders. There are graduations, school closing activities, and the mad rush that spring school events bring into our lives. As we close the book on this wonderfully ordinary and extraordinary school year, I realize – not for the first time – that there is something truly special about experiencing something that could have been lost.

And it's even more wonderful than discovering a missing cheese.

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