Maybe it was driving around in my daughter’s Chevy yesterday, remembering the sense of daring and freedom in skipping out of high school for lunch on Fridays. My friends and I  would go straight to McDonald’s: the local hot spot for school skippers and various  other ne’er-do-wells, feeling giddy at the prospect of a Big Mac and fries instead of the tired old cafeteria fare.

The idea of revisiting a McDonald’s must have come into my head when, recently, at my family’s Christmas Eve party, we all got to reminiscing on just how much we used to love a Big Mac! Well, Big Macs haven’t been part of my diet since around 1998, so when I drove by the golden arches this Friday afternoon, and found myself steering into the drive-through, I must admit, it was with a little trepidation. I had a lot of overwhelming questions, like  “What will happen to me if I ingest this thing? Haven’t movies been made to warn us about the consequences? Isn’t my body supposed to be a temple, or something like that?! More than that, can I shamelessly admit it to my friends–who are all so fit and health-conscious??”

But the rebel in me kicked in, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me as I inched up in line, reviewing the menu.  A cheery voice boomed from the ordering station, welcoming me and asking for my heart’s desire. Without hesitation, I ordered the three-tiered, special-sauced sandwich of my youth, small fries, and— just in case—an iced mocha. And that’s where the photo comes in:

After one bite, I felt happy (and free!) just like those Fridays with my friends— and that night, my endive and beet salad never tasted so good!