She has a path through the kitchen when she’s cooking something that takes a while, and tonight I watched the whole thing from the doorway without once getting up, which I consider a genuine accomplishment given how long it went on. It goes: stove, counter, sink, back to stove. Sometimes the fridge gets added in, … Read more
She came in through the kitchen door already moving wrong. I don’t mean unsteady. I mean wrong in the sense of not matching any of her usual patterns, the ones I have spent considerable time cataloguing — the keys-then-bag-then-shoes sequence, the particular weight of her steps when she’s tired, the way she usually stands at … Read more
I saw the towel before I saw anything else. It was on the counter, draped over something round, and I want it noted that my reaction was not an overreaction. That towel has a history. That towel has, on more than one occasion, meant the end of my claws as I know them, delivered via … Read more
She started talking before I’d even settled anywhere, which should have been my first warning. Usually there’s a sequence to the evening — the bag goes down by the door, the shoes come off, something gets put in the refrigerator or taken out of it, and only after all that does she start making sounds … Read more
There is a sound a certain bag makes. I have known it for a long time. It is not the sound of the food bag, which is a heavier crinkle, more of a slump, because the food bag is mostly full and doesn’t move much when it’s touched. It is not the sound of the … Read more
Something happened to the kitchen today and nobody asked my opinion of it first, which I want on record before I explain the rest. It started with a smell. Not a bad smell exactly — I want to be fair about this — but an aggressive one, the kind that doesn’t stay politely in one … Read more
