I’m not a big fan of flying, but I do love the part when they bring around your little bag of snacks and a drink. I always order Ginger Ale, since my stomach is never quite sure about flying, and then I get my little cocktail napkin laid out on my tray-table (which is NOT is its full upright and locked position), and empty the little bag of snack mix onto it.

Ooh, will you look at that! Pretzels, salted almonds, little triangular crisp things, and cheese biscuit type stuff. It’s not very much food…you could eat it in one mouthful, really. But I take great pleasure out of each individual bit. “Mmm, pretzel,” I muse, chewing slowly and letting each granule of salt pique my taste buds. Then I take a little sip of Ginger Ale. Not to much: gotta make sure that the drink and snack are perfectly rationed so you don’t end up with a dry mouth or extra soda at the end.

“Mmm, almond,” I think as I chew carefully and consciously on one solitary bite of food. In between each bite, I look down and assess what’s left, and in which order I should eat it. Don’t want all the pretzels left, so next is a little cheese biscuit thing. My eyes are closed. It’s barely more than a crumb, but if I chew thoughtfully and am totally present, it turns into a full splendid salted buffet. Images of my trip play across the inside of my eyelids as I bask in my little sip of Ginger Ale from the plastic tumbler.

Right here, right now, this bag of snack mix and pitiably small cup of soda are all that matter. And I am happy.