Thoughts On Squash

I grew up with the belief that squash was something vile.

My mom never prepared squash and until I was 20, I’d never eaten it. Just the way my mom would screw-up her nose when she said the word turned me off. I would learn later, when I was much older, that the reason mom never cooked it was because of something horrendous my grandfather did with it. I won’t go into details, but it was hideous and so was he.

So imagine my surprise when I first tasted it — bland, to be sure, but not vile. And if sautéed with zucchini and onions in a garlicky butter sauce, it was downright delicious. I eat it on a regular basis now.

I do admit, I avoid calling it squash. I prefer crooknecks. Not an all together pleasant name either, but at least that name doesn’t have the same connotation that squash has. And even if it didn’t have the horrid link to my grandfather, the word itself reminds me of something dead and squishy — like roadkill.

This is somewhat in response to a Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) prompt

Lori Carlson writes Poetry, Fiction, Articles, Creative Non-Fiction and Personal Essays. Most of her topics are centered around Relationships, Spirituality, Life Lessons, Mental Health, Nature, Loss, Death, and the LGBTQ+ community. Check out her personal Medium blog here.