When Family Becomes Estranged

As I stare at a large Tupperware container filled with croutons, a tightness builds in my chest and a lump of sadness forms in my throat. While croutons typically evoke no emotional response in most people, they do the exact opposite for me.

Two and a half years ago, my brother moved from California to Kansas to live with my husband and me. He had fallen into hard times, ending up homeless on the streets of Los Angeles, penniless and without hope. In one of our infrequent conversations, I persuaded him to come stay with us "until you get on your feet," as I put it.

Both my brother and my husband enjoyed Caesar salad, which I prepared with romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, Caesar dressing, and a generous topping of croutons. They both LOVED the croutons. I purchased an enormous bag of croutons from Costco, which cost nearly the same as the smaller bags at the grocery store. That was just over a year ago. I was confident that my Tupperware would keep them fresh until the very last one was consumed.

However, very shortly after purchasing that bag of croutons, my relationship with my brother took a turn. Tempers flared and we exchanged harsh words—words meant to justify actions but only succeeding in causing pain. My brother moved out quickly, under less than happy circumstances. I remember his last words to me, “I’ll never ask you for anything again.” I haven’t heard from him since that day.

Now, as I prepare a Caesar salad for my husband, I face this enormous container of croutons. Though they remain crisp to the palate, thanks to the Tupperware, they leave a stale taste in my mouth and a small hole in my heart.

I can't help but wonder if croutons will always make me sad.

Update:

I wrote this story over two years ago, and it’s been almost four years since I’ve heard from my brother. I no longer eat croutons on my salad.

June 24, 2024 My brother passed today. He took his own life. I’ll never eat croutons again.