Epiphany

I remember the day distinctly. I was 18, living away from home for the first time. A group of young singles from my ward in San Diego had gone to L.A. for a temple trip and we were staying at Michael Ericson's parents' house. As we all drifted in for breakfast from various couches and floors around the house, a discussion erupted comparing the virtues of butter versus cream cheese as the fat of choice on bagels. Most advocated for cream cheese, while an ardent few championed butter at the most delightful choice. I mostly just listened, as my frugal Utah upbringing occasioned very few bagels, not enough to really have an opinion. (I leaned toward cream cheese, though. To me, it seemed more exotic.) And then it happened. A moment to change a life. Someone (I don't even remember who) said, "Why not have both? They're really good that way."

What? Did I hear right? Both? An idea, a concept that was foreign to me, yet just waiting to be discovered. The aforementioned frugal Utah upbringing had taught me that I had to choose. Cream cheese or butter, chocolate or vanilla, ice water or punch, soup or salad, paper or plastic. Life is about choices, but in that moment I learned that as an adult, I didn't have to choose between. I could have both. Or neither, if I so desired. I was in control. The choice was up to me. And you know what? To this day I like to have butter AND cream cheese on my bagels. (And sometimes strawberry jam.)