fare thee well


The table is the barest it has been in a month of Sundays. Usually it is laden with computer, books, files from work, purse and car keys.  We seem to do most of our eating on the sofa these days.  But today,  the remnants of the night before lie forsaken on its wooden surface: game contents and box, score sheet and pencil, empty glasses, a folded napkin.

Dirty dishes and cookware crowd the kitchen counter top and the dishwasher is full and running.
The phone rings.

“It was sure good to see you mama.  Thanks for dinner. See you soon, love you.”
I survey the bare table before me as I sip my morning coffee.
“Yes, it was sure good to see you too.”




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