by Little Luxe
I remember taste before I even knew my name.
Before I came out to meet the world, I was already tasting it. Not with my mouth-mouth, but in a soft floaty place where everything was warm and a little spicy. I think Mama was eating something comforting… maybe soup, maybe stew, maybe something that made her pause and smile before she swallowed. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes peppery enough to make her reach for water. I tasted it all quietly, like a secret I didn’t have words for yet.
Then I arrived.
Milk was my first drink. Always there. Warm, soft, like it knew me before I knew myself. I didn’t ask for it. It just came when I cried, like the world had already agreed to take care of me.
Later, I met porridge.
Smooth, gentle, sometimes sweet, sometimes plain like it was still thinking about what it wanted to become. It changed depending on where I was, sometimes rice-based, sometimes oat-like, and sometimes grainy in a way that stuck to my tiny spoon. I didn’t mind. I was still learning how food tells stories.
As I grew, my world got louder.
My school bag started carrying biscuits that crumbled like tiny secrets, fruit that rolled around like it had its own plans, and juice packs that never stayed cold long enough to behave.
Then came parties.
Oh! Parties are not normal eating places. They are colour explosions. Cakes stacked like celebrations don’t believe in moderation. Drinks in bright cups that glow like they are part of the music. I always eat too fast there. Nobody tells me to slow down. Even the food feels like it is performing.
And sleepovers…
That is where rules disappear.
We mix snacks like we are inventing new worlds. Crisps meet cookies. Fizzy drinks meet juice. Someone always whispers, “Don’t tell anyone,” and we all laugh like secrecy is part of the menu.
But when I go back home, everything becomes quiet again. Spoon. Bowl. Milk. Repeat.
And I realise something very small but very big:
I have been learning taste my whole life. Even before I had words for it.
And maybe… I am still just a little finger, learning the world one sip at a time.
