I don’t know anybody who does not like corn. Pests infest the corn fields even before it is due for harvest. Aliens are also making them a part of their intergalactic mysteries as evidenced by the corn circles. Who knows, this might be the only link that will take us to the universe and beyond.

For some people, this is a staple food. For me, this became an extension of my self.

Silence and oblivion are my temporal relief coming to a place i know i would be having difficulty blending in. Still, I am fortunate that some people just knows what other people feels deep inside and tries to relieve that uneasiness.

Carol Ireland, my office mate, who is almost like a mother to everyone, always holds this Friday night dinner at her house. Everytime, there is a newcomer into the gathering. At my first attendance, I finally met Carol’s next door neighbor whom i always hear stories about. The next, it was Amanda and a whole family. Lately, another officemate from the upstairs building went with her husband.

When I met Linda, Carol’s next door neighbor, it was also then that I was able to savor Carol’s famous corn. That night, trying to evade my bashful instincs, i was ill-fated to be caught in a conversation I cannot vindicate even at the outset. It became a lesson the next time when I met Amanda and this whole family. I only made my way to the kitchen and the food and mumbled incomprehensively as we watched MONK.

Prior to the second gathering, I was quite reluctant to commit because experiencing the same shameful scenario was not a smart thing to do. But, the schedule itself became a mandatory event in everyone’s calendar once you know Carol. I remember confirming my attendance by asking if corn would be served.

Carol’s dinner menus are new every time and tasteful. But the corn itself and the ritual preparing it, is always enticing my taste buds to look forward to the dinner every Friday night. This time the corn won’t be served.

All the more reason to forego and make excuses of conflicting schedules. But she knows what I do so I can’t make one up. Pleading, I asked if corn will be included in the menu. There’s still time to change. Even in this urban jungle, corn is hardly out of stock in the grocery. She finally agreed on conditions that I will bring it and prepare it so it wont be off the menu.

That night, despite Amanda being friendly all the while and this family cordial, i still resorted to my temporal relief. Glad it went well without hitches. Before the night ended, everyone remembered the corn and Carol was already trailing my name and the story behind it.

The next schedule, I didn’t have to ask. I volunteered to bring the corn the second Carol sent the invite. This is confirms that corn will not be out of the menu because I will make a way to make it a part of the meal. My name has been trailing behind the corn as Carol tells the story to the couple on the table. As for me, the temporal relief always comes handy.

Even though these people would not know me very well in those encounters, part of my self in my silence would be shared with them because of the corn story. I know Carol already made this tradition of keeping corn on the menu. Little did she know it was more than food she was serving.