Some people merely touch the world. Others truly experience it.
A perfectly set table promised an unforgettable dinner.
The linen tablecloth had been carefully spread.
Porcelain plates adorned with delicate golden threads reflected the light from the chandeliers. Crystal glasses awaited the toast. The silverware had been polished until each piece could gaze upon its own image.
It was the spoon who broke the silence.
“Without me, no one would taste the consommé that begins the meal. I am the only one capable of carrying the first flavor of the night.”
The fork let out a small metallic laugh.
“The first flavor? That hardly impresses anyone. I am the one who supports the main course. I am the one who carries the chicken to the guests’ mouths.”
The knife made a point of joining the conversation.
“You both exaggerate your importance. The most anticipated moment always comes at the end. When the cake arrives, everyone will need me. I am the one who gives the celebration its sweetest slices.”
The argument grew with every passing moment.
Each one was convinced that they were indispensable.
Until the tablecloth, already tired of carrying so much weight and so much vanity, trembled and exclaimed:
“Stop turning me into a battlefield! I have spent hours listening to you compete for importance.”
Silence fell over the table.
At that moment, the guests began to arrive.
The chairs slid into place.
The napkins were carefully unfolded.
The bottles of sparkling wine hid their own excitement, almost unable to contain the bubbles begging to escape.
When dinner began to be served, the argument quietly resumed.
The fork teased the spoon.
“It seems I will be doing far more work than you tonight.”
The spoon immediately replied:
“Do not be so sure. Some people spend much more time having soup than eating the main course.”
The knife interrupted.
“You both continue to think too small. In the end, everyone will remember the dessert.”
Then a quiet voice crossed the table.
Almost a whisper.
Everyone looked at one another.
No one knew where the sound was coming from.
So they asked, almost at the same time:
“Who is speaking?”
The answer came calmly:
“It is curious to hear you.”
The utensils looked at one another.
The plates remained still.
The glasses trembled slightly.
“You spent the entire night trying to prove that one of you was more special than the others… never realizing that you had confused closeness with understanding.”
The fork immediately replied:
“But we are responsible for touching all the food.”
The voice seemed to smile before answering.
“Yes… you only touch it.”
Silence took over the table.
“The spoon carries the soup.”
“The fork pierces the meat.”
“The knife cuts the cake.”
“All of you come into contact with the food…”
There was a brief pause.
“But none of you is capable of feeling its flavor.”
Another moment of silence.
“I am the only one who truly knows the taste of everything.”
Only then did they understand.
It was the tongue.
While they were blinded by their own pride, they never realized that touching is not the same as feeling.
Perhaps life is like that too.
Some people move through life, encountering others, places, books, and opportunities, believing they know them simply because they have been close to them.
But only those who feel, savor, and allow themselves to fully live an experience discover its true essence.
https://digitalmehmet.com/author/rschumaher
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Discover more about my journey as a writer in my interview with Dr. Mehmet Yildiz.
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