Short Assignments from a Class I Took
Light green, compartmented, lunch trays. Still hot. Still wet from institutional, autoclave dishwashers.
Red beets, carrot sticks, pizza squares, fish sticks, salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, chicken patties, depending on the day. Friday’s mish mosh of what the lunch ladies didn’t take home for themselves. My friend’s mother in a hair net, eczema on her hands talking about the kids who got free lunches.
I still like compartmentalizing my food.
Braver than I thought:
I left. It wasn’t easy. It took a while; took a therapist; took a new zip code to get perspective. Sometimes burned bridges are healthy. Sometimes getting pissed on makes late bloomers grow.
I told my mother she was a good mother. She wasn’t. But some things are better left unsaid.