a love letter to H-E-B Trail Mix

Dear H-E-B Trail Mix,

Chewy, salty, sweet, easy, satisfying - I munch you in fistfuls straight from your bag. You are with me on the go, anywhere, everywhere. You have spent countless days with me in Patagonia.  You’ve climbed with me to the summit of Mount Toukbal, Morocco’s highest peak.  You have joined me many times at work in Mexico City.  You have run with me on more than a few Texas trail races. Once, you were once banned from my home by a son who was incapable of stopping before he polished off an entire bag of you. And, during at least a decade, you have rarely missed a car trip with me: you live in the center console of my Subaru. 

This year you have kept me going despite repeatedly missed meals.  Since unusual times call for the usual comforts, I pick through you to eat your peanut M&Ms first, leaving the remaining mix of almonds, cashews, peanuts and raisins less colorful and less tasty. Yes, I am that kind of those two types of people. 

Then, since there are always too many raisins left at the bottom of your bag, I doctor you with whatever nuts are stocked in my pantry, and hopefully, extra M&Ms.  Perhaps too often lately I have breakfasted, lunched, and post-dance dined on you. I might of eaten a handful of arugula, a pb&j, or a Kelly’s brisket taco somewhere in between. But it has been you, H-E-B Trail Mix, who has been a constant in my newly inconstant life:  chewy, salty, sweet, easy, satisfying, and straight from the bag by the fistful.