By Eve Lyons
I’m wandering the tofu and fake meat section
when the announcement comes:
“Will Eve Lyons please come to the information desk?”
In panic I push through shopping carts and yuppies,
already envisioning a rush to the ER.
Sure something is terribly wrong with our two month old son,
why else interrupt my weekly grocery shopping,
what could be so important that it can’t wait till I am home –
only to get the news:
Our vegetable peeler broke.
I’m confused at first,
unsure why this required paging me.
I put it together eventually –
No vegetable peeler means no carrot salad,
which changes our dinner plans for tonight,
the Sunday night of all Sunday nights,
since tomorrow I go back to work,
leaving our son for six long hours.
Relieved, I pick up a peeler,
go home to my spouse and child,
prepare for a lifetime more
of moments like these.
This poem was previously published in Mutha magazine in April of 2014.