He told me that he would rather have a deep-fried Pop Tart. He was joking, but the request was so obscure, it has stayed within my mind like a visual aid to help me remember something. I had offered him a citrus fruit, but he shook his head. Now, the Deep-Fried Pop Tart is lodged in my brain like a popcorn kernel, aching and inaccessible.

It has to be the kind of thing that is only good when it’s fresh. Deep-fried, two days old and out of the fridge just sounds disgusting. Let’s face it. Fresh and glistening with hot oil, draining on the paper underneath it sounds disgusting too. He would rather have a deep-fried Pop Tart than my juicy clementine. Easy to peel. No pits.

Isn’t that human nature? Instead of enjoying the fruit in front of us, we hold out. We hold out for the impossible. We hold out for the intangible goodness of the Deep-Fried Pop Tart. We don’t even know what it will taste like, but it must be better than a silly little bite of citrus.

What about me? What am I denying myself right now because I’m waiting for the Deep-Fried Pop Tart? What have I put on hold because I’m waiting until I’m thin, rich or ready for it? What about you? What are you waiting for? I want to grab that fruit and tear into its skin. You don’t even need a finger nail to peel it, just gently tug at its orange rind and it will release itself to you.