It's exactly 12:00 pm, JB is sitting on my couch. He's been here every day all week. I fortunately never get tired of him.
Mama went back to work today. I feel the loneliness of lunch with out love. Cold, Chinese take-out lunch that my father rushes home to bring us. I hate it. I've always hated it. It's the same order, no matter how different they sound. And no matter how many times he asks us what we want, we end up with the same menu we'd had the day before. I hate being home for lunch when Mama doesn't cook. It feels so cold, so unloved.
Mama went back to work today. I feel the loneliness of lunch with out love. Cold, Chinese take-out lunch that my father rushes home to bring us. I hate it. I've always hated it. It's the same order, no matter how different they sound. And no matter how many times he asks us what we want, we end up with the same menu we'd had the day before. I hate being home for lunch when Mama doesn't cook. It feels so cold, so unloved.
