In a new essay for an upcoming issue of The New Yorker, funny lady Lena Dunham writes about her childhood fondness for ordering takeout, as well as the recent loss of a family friend. While the topics of death and delivery don’t explicitly overlap in the article, both provoke different feelings of nostalgia in Dunham, whose essay, though tinged with familiar humor, is generally quite sensitive.
Recounting the joy accompanied with the arrival of the takeout, Dunham writes, “Deep inside, I know that my pathological resistance to homemade cuisine comes from something more than a desire to drain my parents of their financial resources and waste endless quantities of cardboard and Styrofoam. There is something so comforting, so magical, about the meal simply arriving, already smelling like itself, laid out like a road map to satisfaction.”
Despite her own relishing in delivery food and the delivery process, however, Dunham also explores the guilt that her mother, amazing artist Laurie Simmons, felt over failing to prepare homemade meals for her family. She writes, “My mother’s best friend, Sarah, is also an artist, also a mother of two, busy and modern. Sarah cooks for her children constantly, and it makes my mother crazy with guilt.”
Through its reminiscence of childhood memories and family dynamics, Dunham’s essay will remind you of your own past, and if anything, inspire you to grab your takeout menus.
Read the full essay here.
Thanks to The New Yorker
Image via The Huffington Post
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