Day Twelve


Sometimes being home alone lets you notice the simple things. I like simple things. A lot.

No “official” prompt today, just lunch.

Comfort Food

Sometimes the ramen tastes so good
Eaten surreptitiously, like sin
In private stolen moments
When no one with an opinion
Is nearby to share

No, it’s not my ramen, of course
It belongs to the boys
Who think that this is cooking
I purchase them in packs of ten
Nobody notices the missing

I break the noodles in half
With the bag still sealed
The way I did it thirty years ago
Back when food was scarce as money
And we couldn’t afford to lose a curl of starch

I boil them, gently, three full minutes
Yes, of course I check the clock,
Who wants them all soggy and fat- wormed?
I treat myself and use a strainer
Instead of the lid that I left in the cupboard

I hold the flavor packet like a bomb
Delicately tearing along dotted line, no spills
I only use a tiny touch
Full flavored MSG madness
Isn’t suited to my non-drive-thru tastes

I mix noodles and powder in still-hot pot
Then put them in a bowl, because I can,
And sit down to eat them prayerfully
I love the way they curl into my fork
And how they stick together

I nibble the pieces hanging off the fork,
Shepherding stragglers into shape
I savor tastes and textures,
Eating the past, letting it linger on my tongue,
Tasting times long gone

I decide to leave the bowl unrinsed,
Thinking it looks cozy there nearby,
Noticing, but not minding
The tiny curls sticking to the walls of the bowl
Cementing themselves in place

I have time, later, to win that fight
Later, when I’ll remember tastes,
And still be thirsty from the salt,
And I’ll smile ever so slightly,
Grateful for tap water and memories

~ Liesl Dineen 2014

What do you think?

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