Jojin Van Winkle
The kitchen has become our battlefield. We are pot heads everywhere, clanging and banging out three square meals, if we are lucky. You concoct sea salt salmon with capers and spinach salad to build our immune systems. I counter with pans of baked lasagna, full of cardiac arrest cheese to tighten our pants.
I ingest piles of vitamins--a lay person's miracle cure propelled by a mild mixture of fear and wishful thinking. You take just one multivitamin, forever the optimist. We face off over mounds of froyo. The dog gets the last lick.
Scrubbing skillets and drying dishes are the free festive events we collaborate on regularly now. Potato peeler in your left hand and a whisk in my right, we are must not be afraid to look directly at the fading light. May we all--everywhere--be lucky, we pray tonight.