I once read an online article about the last meals chosen by inmates on death row. It detailed how murderers, terrorists and other equally wretched members of society were permitted to choose their final meal before being put to death and committed solely to history. The majority opted for “treat foods” such as lobster tail, steak, fried chicken and desserts such as pecan pie, apple pie, and ice cream. Some forfeited that privilege and died on an empty stomach.
That particular article inspired me to think about what I would like my final meal on Earth to be. After dining at Taquerías Tamarindo yesterday with my husband, I concluded that should one of the gargoyles from the building across the street have come plummeting down towards me and smashed me to smithereens, after demolishing a plate of tacos that tasted like they’d been prepared to perfection on a plancha in Heaven, I’d have certainly met my maker both satisfied and full.