“It’s time to get up Prena!” “You need to eat before we take you to school.” Gas stove hums as I travel down the hall. The chirping clock repeats grandma’s call. Oils scent stirs with egg, as they fry in the cast iron skillet. “I don’t like egg for breakfast, could I eat something else instead of it?” You shouldn’t be so picky, grandma sternly says in reply. You need your protein so you can focus as the class-day goes by. Your brother will learn to eat healthy, to grow big and strong. This comparison, while unintended, made me feel I had done wrong.
You need to eat, don’t skip meals. Grandma still repeats these words during phone calls to this day. If I haven’t already done so, I tell her and eat right away. The dish may be small, but I’ve performed the task she asks. Usually it is cereal or a bagel sandwich with some fruit juice in a glass. If it’s not her kitchen, voice, or clock reminding me, it is the prescription bottle label or hospital antibacterial filling the room’s air. Vividly I’m reminded, of turns taken leading to trouble all because I ignored the scents of care.
