Sitting in the living room
Watching the evening news,
Which you made me do,
Because it's “stimulating”
I wait until you called out
“Dinner!”
I either rushed like a dog
Or slogged like a slug
Because of the dinner.
Fried egg rolls?
Burgers?
Crab rangoons?
Yum, Yum, Yum.
Kare-kare?
Sinigang?
Arroz caldo?
Ugh.
I hide my displeasure when I dig in.
But I excavate as slow as traffic.
We discuss the day,
Discuss tomorrow,
Share a laugh.
Or irritation.
I’m irritated by the food.
Each time I suggested we eat something else, you declined.
“Everyone eats it (whatever the trend was) at lunch!”
“You are yourself. And you have your own foods from your own culture. Eat them”
Yet at the store I saw you buy a stack of frozen foods.
Jimmy Deans sandwich for breakfast.
On my plate before you left for the bus.
Classmates discussed their mothers making breakfast.
Suddenly my Lunchables pizza wasn't tasty anymore.
That night, I devoured the Kaldereta.
Taste replaced by a yearning for homemade cooking.
I saw you smirk a bit, but no comment.
Food is everything.
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