red lentils

sundays at the restaurant are long and busy. Eggs benedict, crepes with braised chicken, pea sprouts and lemon cream, yogurt and granola..ham..bacon..smoked tempeh... Then suddenly we all pull it together and close up for the "weekend", and head home. Today I came home to my children and their insatiable hunger for me. I opened my fridge and, staring at the leftovers sitting in the fridge from last week's meals, wondered from which part of me i would create yet another meal.. Something comforting, something easy, something they would eat. I called them to the table and they each stared at their bowls with dissatisfied faces. Between forcing forkfuls of soft red lentils into their mouths I threaten to not give them dessert, and listen to their stories. Fela (he's three) tells me over and over again how "papa makes this at his house" and moses (he's eight) tells me with great annimation about his trip to lego land this summer and begs me to let him draw me a diagram of the rollercoasters he rode there. I half listen to both of them, i'm tire, and the red lentils feel like heavy down comforters wrapped around me, and i am fighting falling asleep. We finish and rush through 15 minutes of pajamas, teeth brushing, and negotiations about how many books we'll read, and i lay down to start with Brown Bear Brown Bear, mid-way through realizing that i'm much closer to sleep than they are. We finish our agreed readings and after kisses (many many many kisses) and glasses of water and more kisses, i shut off the light and find myself standing in the center of my kitchen staring at the stove. It looks like a place i've been before but remember being grander and feeling much more connected to. I notice that the wall above the sink looks lonely- sad and lonely- or is it me? Suddenly I'm opperating myself into the bathroom, noticing that we're out of toilet paper (i guess being the only woman in the house deams me responcible for keeping us stocked on this item), and i contemplate my new roomate. After nearly two years and the busiest summer i can remember, fin has returned to see moses. His poor planning and my new apartment have united and now my ex-husband fills my apartment with the smell of burnt salmon and sounds of australia. My toilet paper is gone and in my fridge (next to his left-over salmon jerky) is a bowl of red lentils and rice that i left for him.