Broccoli

I'm on Falls of the Neuse Road, stuck in traffic behind a wreck, not far from the house where Aunt Helen lived before she left Raleigh to escape the traffic.  I don't blame her for leaving.  I never blamed her, though I did miss her after she moved away.  I remember a night she had me over for supper -- I was new to Raleigh then -- and as an appetizer served raw broccoli florets with a curried mayo dip, thus commencing my long love affair with curry, which I had never before tasted, and which was more exotic and wonderful than I could have imagined.

I'm sure Aunt Helen forgot about the broccoli right away, but I never have. 

I'm driving around the wreck now, no one hurt.  I'm getting off Falls of the Neuse, heading downtown to the grocery store. 

I don't have a grocery list, I just know we need food for supper.  I walk in the store and, without stopping to think, make a beeline for the broccoli and pick out a nice head, which tonight I will cook with a curry sauce in memory of Aunt Helen, who opened new worlds for me.