tomato sauce

tonight I'm preparing tomato sauce to have over pasta

those corkscrews have sat on the shelf, two weeks now

and I wish to taste their delicate shape

washed with a light tomato sauce

filled with zucchini, bell peppers and mushrooms

flavored with garlic and basil

topped with parmesan cheese

a red wine would be nice to round out our conversation

the three of us sit around the table turning the corkscrews

pale red with tomato sauce

slipping in between parted lips

an occasional drop slips and is soon met with my cloth napkin

el sol

Nate greeted Joel and June at the door.  The door to their mother's home.  Assembled again after many months.  In remembrance of their father.  Hugs were exchanged.  Luggage left in the entry hall.  It could be carried upstairs later.  Now after a two hour drive and before that a two hour flight for June, they could sit down again - together.  To talk and not listen.  To talk and not care.  Not care what was said or even pretend to recall it moments after the words left their lips.  Five people linked by DNA and years of shared living.  And now they were lodged together for a brief 48 hours to grab hold of those genetic strands.

What was to be made of this time together?

Their mother jumped in.  Always the one to command their attention though age had weakened her hold.  Maybe they'd never really listened to her.  Only now their choice was deliberate and not the oversight of youth.  There were plans for dinner and what do you want to drink.  A new restaurant to show off and wine and beer they'd never choose to drink at home.  The drink moistened their tongues when water would have sufficed.  And the continuous ribbon of plans for the weekend unwound with no one really listening.  'Cause it didn't really matter.  Everyone would be where they needed to be when they needed to be there.  The shift of he numbers would propel them from one moment to the next.  The familiarity of the steps to be taken were easy to follow.