August 10, 2020Maxing Out
Eventually my grandmother started eating
anything sweet she could reach: strawberry
gummies, chocolate ice cream, giant bags of M&Ms,
an entire box of soft cherry Ludens. Platter
of Christmas cookies: trees all crumb before
we could stop her. Now, nearing eighty, my father
does the same. Raspberry cordials, a pint
of Häagen-Dazs vanilla. At some point you have to
ask, why not? Our cat almost died, and now
we let him eat butter and shit on the counter.
Today I found him licking the edge of Boar’s
Head ham flapping out my sandwich, so I gave him
half. We only love so long. This summer we drove
to California, and New York, almost died
on a mountain, drowned in a river, burned in a fire,
got shot on the street. Yesterday we maxed a card
out on a friggin’ lawn mower. Cost as much as dinner
three days before: braised octopus, homemade pasta,
bottle of Nebbiolo. We shared the best dessert
I have ever eaten: caramel bar on shortbread topped
with hazelnut chocolate bar topped with whipped cream,
fresh blueberries, blueberry compote. I licked the plate
white with my fingers. For twenty years, we’ve waited
for new jobs, bigger savings, better healthcare, the right
lotto balls. For seven years, we’ve needed to cut the grass
that keeps on growing—
and you can only cut it for so long.
from #68 - Summer 2020