Melted and Burnt

It was supposed to be a simple cookout.

Just me, a pan, some bread, and a hopeful slice of cheddar.
The kind of day where the sun is warm, the butter is soft, and your heart feels like it might finally know what it’s doing.

Until the flip.

Act I: A Cheese-Stained Beginning

I prepped with purpose:

• Two slices of bread, thick and promising

• One pat of butter, artistically smeared

• A slice of cheddar and a slice of havarti (because why limit joy?)
  
  

Mini Blue adjusted the windscreen around the portable griddle.
Pandy handed me a spatula like I was accepting a ceremonial blade.

“Grill with grace,” he said.
“And mitts,” he added.

Act II: The Sizzle of the Soul

As the sandwich sizzled, I started thinking:

• What makes a grilled cheese grilled… instead of just warmed?

• Is the cheese melting… or finally becoming its truest form?

• Am I too soft on the inside… or not buttered enough on the outside?
  
  

The pan hissed like it understood.
Mini Blue turned slightly orange. Concern? Enlightenment? Cheese glow?

Act III: The Flip Heard 'Round the Fort

I panicked.
I flipped too early.
The bread tore. The cheese stuck. The structure collapsed emotionally and physically.

“This is a metaphor,” I whispered, staring at the mangled corner.

“It’s lunch,” Pandy replied, calmly bringing a fresh plate.

I wanted to throw it away. Start over.
But Pandy said gently:

“Burnt doesn’t mean bad. It means brave.”

Act IV: The Crumb of Truth

So I ate it.

The crispy side was too crispy.
The cheese was slightly uneven.
I loved it anyway.

Because sometimes, you fall apart a little.
And sometimes, you hold it together just long enough to feed your soul (and your snackhole).

Final Thought

A grilled cheese doesn’t have to be perfect to be delicious.
And you don’t have to be perfectly assembled to be exactly what someone needs.

Toast unevenly. Melt weirdly. Flip when you’re ready—or not quite.

But never doubt this:

You are cheese, and you are becoming.

With extra napkins,
Doggie 🐶🧀🔥