I went into the Superstore looking for a head of lettuce.
In the snack aisle, I found my sixth grade classroom:
Go-Go squeeze and fruit cup,
cherries eaten first, pears last.
I haven’t spoken to my mother in a few weeks,
but I could have sworn she was standing right next to me
in the fluorescent light of the supermarket,
rummaging through the clearance rack
looking for discounted shampoo and conditioner,
maybe a cheap treat:
This is something I learned from her,
along with the universal truth
that you always forget to buy something
even if it was on your grocery list.
My father has never been the conversational type
but I called him last night
to ask how he cooks his brussel sprouts.
I found a pack of them in the back of my fridge,
whispering that they would start to rot
(Turn to sludge)
if I ignored them one day longer.
So I called up my dad
knowing that I could only ever eat them
if they were made his special way.
When I finally got home from the store:
snacks stacked in the cupboard,
produce stuffed in the fridge,
but the lettuce drawer still empty.
You always forget something.
Danielle (Dani) Pybus (she/her) is a third-year English and creative writing major. She loves all things whimsical and silly and writes mostly about the small things. She is minoring in French.
