Angels in my Kitchen - Page 2
The third meal was a huge vat of arroz con pollo, perfect and tasty and filling, and a fresh loaf of bread. When the meals run out I stare into the fridge hoping for inspiration and secretly wanting to call for takeout for the rest of my life.
Other friends offer to take me out to lunch. My best friend comes to visit; she walks my daughter to the bus stop in the morning, helps pack her lunch, buys me soup, takes us out for an early dinner at a funky cafe in the city, listens to me grieve over breakfast, lunch and dinner. She buys me a goat cheese salad at another cafe, and sits close by when I get up to read from the stage at a poetry event in the Village.
Another friend brings me organic, wheat-free cookies. She even buys a bag of kitten kibble for our cat and won't take any money for it. She asks me if I am eating. I nod, but I know I am drinking way too much coffee. My cousin sends a box of gourmet cookies and jellybeans. My girlfriend in California sends smoked salmon and treats.
Last night we ate leftover lasagna (store-bought and frozen, but filling) while my mother and I ate soup from a cafe I stopped at during the day, in search for an enormous iced coffee. She nibbles on fresh bread and steamed broccoli which I have prepared. She is sick of soup, so tonight I will bake the chicken I bought to make a soup with, and hope for the best.
After dinner my daughter will paw through the last of her Easter candy, negotiating on how much she can have. I will already be wondering what to cook for the next night. I will avoid thinking about the next round of chemo, the next week of appointments. I will think vaguely of eating an apple but instead pour myself a small glass of merlot.
This is an original New Jersey Moms Blog post. Theta Pavis is a poet, editor and journalist who believes in the power of crock pots, but not microwaves.