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Words by Laurel Armstrong      Art by Aaron Rowell
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What the Heart Desires

We’ve all been there. It's lunch-time. You're sitting alone at your kitchen table, perusing Facebook and Instagram while Snapchatting it up. You're about to take a bite of that amazing cucumber-sprout-pancetta on rye. It’s just at the tip of your tongue, but you stop.


You can’t help but feel something's missing. You look at all the amazing photos your friends are posting. A familiar, sour pang hits your gut. Something is missing. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about what you don’t have.


“But I should be happy!” you tell yourself, “I’ve got a great job, a great home, and I have a delicious, pretentious sandwich in my hand awaiting digestion!”


But then you remember your co-worker’s Facebook photo. She’s sharing a salad with her husband. The setting is mundane, but she looks soooooo happy. Then Instagram sends you a notification that your old roommate is “Out with my baby getting the best BLT in Brooklyn!” Her arm is around her fiancé while he holds their sandwiches, and her huge smile seems to fill the screen.


You fight the rising jealousy, and decide to turn off anymore notifications, when suddenly your BFF snapchats you from happy hour. She’s with this hottie she met twenty minutes ago, and they’re already spooning chips and guac into each other’s mouths.


“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!” you yell to no one in particular as you slam the phone down and stifle a sob. You just want what everyone else seems to have: A ripe avocado.


Memories flood your mind of all the times you brought that special avocado home, only to find it wanted you to back off because it wasn’t “ready yet,” or needed “more time ripening in a dark paper sack.” So, you gave it time. So much time that when you finally got it to open up, all you tasted was regret. Because that taste of regret is the taste of over-ripe avocado.


Look, I don’t know what the answer is. We’ll never stop looking for Mr. Ripe, but maybe we should be willing to settle for Mr. Ripe-Now.

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