surprised, pleasantly

I have a tendency to catalog things in my life within my very orderly, but somewhat rigid, mental filing system.  I make a judgment about something - I like this food, I don't like that sweater, I enjoy spending time with her - and then I file. 
Done and done.

Very rarely do I revisit my placements.  I trust my judgment and don't want to waste time reassessing what has already been assessed.

But recently, there have been a few times where I've been forced to pull out an old, dusty file and reevaluate.

Take lavender for instance.  For me - it was always a soup, detergent, or maybe a candle. 

 

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Perhaps the essence could be allowed to be added to an already existing and much-more-prominent food flavor (lavender lemonade or lavender peach jam), but I couldn't imagine lavender standing all on it's own for eating.

But then someone brought some delicious Boulange treats into the office.
And I bit into a purple macaroon.
And it was lavender.
Just lavender and nothing else.

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The second I realized it, my jaw clenched up expecting the soapy taste of a sud-soaking detergent bubbling up within my cheek, but instead I was pleasantly surprised.  The taste was sweet, yet refreshing, calming and inviting, and all kinds of delicious macaroon goodness.

I admit it - I was wrong.  I pulled out my file and relabeled.  Lavender does have a place in culinary confection all to itself. 

Or take young adult fiction - the day I graduated from middle school, I pronounced this file of literary genre over.  I was an ADULT, not a little girl: I no longer read The Baby-sitters Club or Judy Blume.  

But then I read the first chapter of The Hunger Games and my tune quickly changed.  If you haven't taken the plunge yet, do it - regardless of your literary inclinations, you will love.

 

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Then there's carnations.  I've always despised these terribly tacky flowers.  While I respect their positioning in a cheesy single-stem vase at a Denny's or equal-caliber establishment, I could never be happy with a bouquet of these blossoms for myself, especially when paired with babies breath - which comes in almost equally as awful. 

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But then while at the cheese shop picking up some essentials, I stumbled across the most gorgeous bouquet of blooms in their tantalizing display right inside their front door.  As I stepped in closer to check out the name and price of these maroon beauties, I was shocked.

They were carnations.  My mind was racing as I tried to place them in the correct category: did I, or did I not, like this species of plant?  I liked it, but would I like it tomorrow?  Did I have to reassess and refile immediately?  Could I just keep this one file open for now?

But then I realized it's not just true about scents or books or greenery, it's amazing how often I place a person into a category where they may or may not belong.  And even if they do belong, they might not a few years, weeks, or days later.  I certainly am not the same category of person I was 6 months ago - how should I expect those around me to fit nicely into one mental file or another forever and ever?

They say "people don't change," but I actually don't believe that one bit.  I can't make a person change, but people change all the time: I am changing right this very moment just like everyone else - I should give those around me a little more credit for that.
(I'll have you know: my mental filing cabinet has just been thrown out of our two-story window.)

xoxo
KK