The Last Gourmet

It came today in the mail; my very last copy of Gourmet Magazine. I held it in my hands for a moment, still in its protective plastic mailer and nodded, sighed, and set it down on my desk. The glistening and golden brown Thanksgiving turkey on the front cover stared back at me. An accidentally ominous subscription card poked out from beneath the magazine: "Last Chance Offer For Gourmet Subscribers", it read.

It was like finding a message on your answering machine left by a friend the day before they suddenly and unexpectedly died. Even they thought they would be here tomorrow, but 'the powers that be' had other plans and snatched them away without warning.

I wanted to leave it there in its austere wrapping, inner subscription cards intact, and never open it, leaving it for someone else to unwrap years from now. But, like that lost friend, I had to read the last words, see the last photos. I had to breathe in that new magazine smell one last time from within its still-stiff and brand new pages.

Once I'm done reading cover to cover, like always, I'll put it away on the same shelf the others are on, but it won't stay there - none of them do. I'll take it down over and over again to reference a recipe or story, and enjoy it each and every time, but maybe a little more than the rest simply because it is ... the last Gourmet.