A Few More Than You

Several years ago while brushing A's hair in the early morning of Thanksgiving Day, she announced that she wasn't going to learn to cook. I parted her hair and brushed it into two halves. As we were standing in front of a mirror, I tried to hide my amusement. She wouldn't appreciate me finding humor in her proclamation. She then said that she wasn't going to get married (this was when boys were still more annoying than not) and thus she didn't need to learn the fine art of food preparation.

As I wound one ribbon around a doggy-ear, I asked her if she ate. Her eyes widened, as they typically did when she sensed she was being led to a certain conclusion. She nodded. I tied the ribbon and turned her slightly to begin again on the other side. I told her that she would need to at least know how to feed herself.

I finished tying the second ribbon and we stood for a moment, looking at one another in the reflection. I smoothed the few rebellious hairs that refused to be tamed, still stiffling a grin. The smell of the pies baking reached under the door and teased and tempted to draw us out of our momentary reverie.

I opened the door and allowed the fullness of the kitchen smells to fetter our exchanged thoughts. Before leaving, she proclaimed that she wasn't going to have a large family anyway.... "Only five or six babies."