I remember hearing on NPR a long time ago a story about toast. A story about how the smell chemically reminds our bodies and souls of warmth, of being full, of a home. Bread making is an art form, you know? NPR did a whole commentary about toast...a worthy project.

We have the same toaster up here as the one I had in Asheville. Funny how we can buy the same appliances in a completely different place--homogenization at its finest.

I remember the old toaster got something "stuck" inside. It was some odd plastic item that would not exit. Amy and I safely unplugged the device, and stuck chopsticks down inside to assist the foreign object's leaving process. It wouldn't budge. I recall shaking the toaster became a method for getting rid of the rattly artifact. Nothing moved.

Although the toaster is the same all around the world, the moments with our toaster and the toast and the smell of each slice browning, those are memories are individual. Maybe we are not so homogenized after all.

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