Tonight, as I’m sitting here in the stillness of our apartment, my mind is on butter.
I love butter. I REALLY love butter. But not just any butter. One of my latest culinary discoveries is butter made from raw milk. There’s this great little dairy farm not too far from us that I’ve been buying raw milk from for awhile, and last time I was there, I noticed that they sell butter.
Oh. My. Word.
Almost thirty years on this planet, and I’m positive this is the first time I’ve ever had butter that wasn’t store bought. Y’all, it is MAGICAL.
It is also ridiculously expensive.
I feel the same way about cheese. A few weeks ago, I was at Whole Foods, and there was this block of cheese being sold for…get this…SEVENTEEN DOLLARS A POUND. I did a double take, and became immediately skeptical.
And then I ate a bite.
There was this tiny little tray of samples, and the exorbitant price made me curious. And so I took a sample, and I swear for a split second, the world stopped turning. And for the first time in my life, I considered that a pound of cheese might be worth seventeen dollars.
This isn’t really about cheese or butter. It’s about the idea that the best things in life are not free. They’re often quite costly. Maybe not in literal money. But very few things that mean a whole lot to me have come without cost.
Sometimes lately, I get tired of filling up my life with cheap things.