Recently, I went to dinner with a friend to a Chinese restaurant.

I remember when it was not difficult to find a restaurant that specialized in Mandarin or Hunan or Szechuan cuisine. Now, it seems so many Thai and Korean and Vietnamese eateries fill the boulevards, offering such flavorful and inexpensive options for dine-in or carry-out, that finding a place simply for good pot stickers and hoisin sauce has become more challenging.

My friend and I discovered one such place close to where he lives. They serve cold Tsing Tao beer, too. A bonus!

Many years ago, there was a saying about eating Chinese food, even a big meal, being problematic because feeling “full” afterwards was short-lived.

Whether this was the way racism cropped up in what could be looked at as a more civil time, whether this was related to the proportion of rice to protein (and the speeds for digesting each), or whether this was a plot hatched by Idaho Potato Growers to fill American plates with starches that had skins, many people claimed to have experienced this.

Regardless of how full I felt when I pushed the mostly empty plate of spicy garlic sauce away, my eyes lit up when the young waiter, probably a college student who was related to the owner, brought out a small white plate with two almond cookies and two fortune cookies.

No matter how full I felt at the moment, I couldn’t NOT break the almond cookie into chunks and wash them down with my tiny handle-less cup of jasmine tea.

And the fortune cookie….individually wrapped in thin cellophane before pandemic eating made individually wrapped treats pretty standard, I couldn’t wait to crack it open.

Pretty plain and tasteless, these cookies did not have much to offer as a dessert.  And yet, my sense of anticipation showed me that I was hungry for something else.

Reassurance or a cause for optimism? The sense that randomness actually operates according to some plan? I love when I experience boons from unexpected words or events coming into my life.

In unpacking my end-of-meal-m treat, I feel like I’m receiving a message that is just for me.

I feel like someone is telling me, “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

So I gave myself permission to hold the packaged cookie to my lips and tear the wrapper open with my teeth.

I pressed the fortune cookie at its widest point between my thumb and index finger and squeezed them together until the folds of hardened dough started crumbling.

I was taken aback by a feature in the new generation of fortune cookie. Aphorisms and lucky numbers are printed on one side of the two inch strip of paper, tucked into the folds of the cookie. Advertising appears on the other.

I thought about the first words I saw, wondering how the message could be meant for me. “Hiring? We’ll serve up qualified candidates fast?” Then, I realized the words were from ZipRecruiter.

I deferred to my dining companion to read his fortune out loud, taking note of the advertisement on the reverse side as the words tumbled out of his mouth. While his message was about the coming of a BIG event, i zeroed in on the printed letters before me. “DUDE WIPES…available from amazon.”

I opened my strip of paper. I read my fortune out loud too. I smiled.

You are more appreciated that you think.

I loved the thought. I could not think of a more wonderful sentiment; to remember that a positive state of mind can affect other people in ways that can’t be imagined.

I also felt something I was hungry for was satisfied.

I long to hear that everything is okay. I understand that when I think this, I’m thinking about first being okay with myself.

That’s my great good fortune.

This feeling was contained in the subtext of my cookie’s message. As long as I can appreciate things in life as it is, and, as long as I feel I am appreciated for what I contribute or what I can bring out in others, I’m okay.

Trusting that you are appreciated is no small thing.