Jan 29
i made breakfast today, but the meal you had prepared for me this morning was far more gratifying and invigorating than my two pancakes and my glass of orange juice.
i think i understand what it means to crave your food; though i no longer have a desire to eat the rest of the bag of marshmallows on top of the toaster or the korean food waiting for me in the refrigerator, i am consumed with thoughts of sitting at your table again and, without much concern for manners or neatness, greedily feasting upon your words as you stand over me and rake helping after helping onto my plate, saying
“oh, you have to try some of this”
“you can’t leave until you take a bite of this”
“this will knock you off of your feet”
until all of your bowls are empty and you tell me to stop and digest.
the only things i remember about the shrimp i had last night are that it was spicy and good and that it cost twenty dollars, but i will never forget the way your bread rejuvenates my soul.
Jan 23
i have nothing to say about this photo,
but i have a lot to remember about this day,
about shopping together:
grabbing two shopping carts, because “it’s more efficient this way”
(though we rarely split into two groups)
behaving like grown-ups and checking the price per pound instead of tripping over the sale price
(though we still jump with excitement at the sight of chocolate milk)
watching the checkout monitor with anticipation as our membership card reduces our total
(“fifty dollars, oh my goodness, oh my goodness”)
racing our shopping cart across the parking deck, up the elevator, and through the halls to our apartment
(“oh man, strawberry kiwi drinks overboard!”)
forming an assembly line to transfer our groceries from the cart to the refrigerators
(“we are brothers, baby, we are family”)
Jan 11
Jan 2
