Notes January 26, 2012 J. Safran Foer on 'Comfort Food' On the sixth day, my wife and I were able, for the first time since arriving, to leave the hospital together. Our son was clearly over the hump, and doctors thought we'd be able to take him home the following morning. We could hear the bullet we'd dodged whistle past. So as soon as he'd fallen asleep (with my in-laws by his bedside), we took the elevator down and reemerged into the world. It was snowing. The snowflakes were surreally large, distinct and durable, like the ones children cut out of white paper. We glided like sleepwalkers down Second Avenue, no destination in mind, and ended up in a Polish diner. Massive glass windows faced the street, and the snowflakes clung for several seconds before descending. I can't remember what I ordered. I can't remember if the food was any good. It was the best meal of my life. -Eating Animals, 2009
