Lost and Found Nachos

They say you can’t go home again, but they’ve clearly never opened the fridge at midnight.

That’s where I found them — half a platter of nachos, forgotten behind a jar of salsa that expired during a previous presidency. They were cold, stiff, and glistening in that particular way only congealed cheese can manage. Most people would’ve walked away. I, however, am not most people.

It wasn’t nostalgia that drove me. It was curiosity. Could something once glorious survive time, gravity, and refrigeration? I microwaved them, cautiously optimistic. The cheese reanimated like a zombie with unfinished business, the chips surrendered their crunch, and the beans formed a sort of edible adhesive that felt both horrifying and efficient.

And yet — they were good. Against all logic, they still tasted like something worth finding. Maybe better, even. Because these weren’t new nachos, full of potential and hubris. They were seasoned, weathered, familiar. They’d been through something.

Maybe that’s what Lost and Found Day is really about — realizing that sometimes what we find isn’t what it was, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth keeping. Or, in this case, eating.

So yes, I ate them. And yes, I survived. But more importantly, I learned something profound: love fades, time passes, but nachos — they just get a little softer.