LJ Idol Week 5, Prompt: Kuchisabishii
My parents’ fifty-fifth wedding anniversary would have been December 30, 2021, twenty days after my dad’s death. Along with Christmas and my dad’s January third birthday, this made for a very hard month.
I decided for self care because I did not want to leave the house on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. Since I had not had a day to stay home for at least six months, this would be a blessing, but it was a blessing requiring preparation. I took my mom out to lunch on December 30. I did not think she should be alone on the day that would have been her fifty-fifth wedding anniversary. My mom was glad to go to lunch, but said, “It’s not my anniversary any more.”
Her comment almost made me burst into tears as I told her, “Dad’s death does not change the fact that this is the anniversary of the day you married him.” She shrugged.
We ate at Olive Garden since Italian is our ultimate comfort food. I hoped they would not ask us the frequent question if we were celebrating anything because I would have definitely burst into tears. We had a nice lunch, and I took my mom to the grocery store to make sure she would be okay from Thursday until Sunday so I could have my two days at home. I carried in her groceries for her and asked if she needed me to do anything before I left. She asked me to get the Christmas boxes out of the closet, so she could take down her Christmas tree over the next few days. I was surprised, since my grandma and my mom never took a tree down before Epiphany, but I didn’t argue with her. After getting everything settled, I tried to hug my mom, and she pushed me away. I almost made it to my car before I started sobbing.
I had a good cry, and went to the grocery store to make sure my husband Arthur and I would be well stocked, too. I had made a list of the ingredients for several comfort food items. Arthur wanted me to go to Costco since he really likes their frozen chicken breasts that are individually wrapped to prevent sticking together. My mom’s apartment building is right behind Costco, so it was convenient, but as I drove by, the parking lot was absolutely packed and I could not deal with that level of crowds, so I continued driving to Publix.
I found most of what I needed at Publix, but they did not have frozen chicken. I even asked about it. While looking for frozen chicken, I did find frozen ravioli, which sounded really good to me. There was one brand on sale, but I refused to buy it, because the brand manufacturer thinks four ravioli constitutes a serving! Four ravioli does not a serving make unless they are the ginormous, gourmet, palm-sized sort shown on the Food Network. The other brands thought nine or twelve ravioli was a serving, which was much more reasonable. I bought three bags of different varieties. I had already planned on making spaghetti sauce from scratch.
I looked up, and in the freezer aisle checking her list on her phone, was one of my closest friends, DeeDee. She hadn’t seen me, and I fled. DeeDee is one of maybe five people on the planet for whom I cannot put on an act of being okay. She would have smiled brightly upon seeing me, hugged me, asked how I was doing, and I would have started sobbing hysterically right in the middle of the freezer aisle at Publix. Plus, DeeDee lives on the other side of town, so her shopping at this Publix meant she was going to her boyfriend’s house. If I started sobbing, she would insist on driving me home, and either Arthur would have to take her back to her car, or her boyfriend would have to come get her.
I vacated the freezer aisle, and went to the pasta aisle. I bought vodka sauce which I thought would be a better pairing for the sausage and fennel ravioli than the sauce I make, and also found gnocchi. I can make gnocchi from scratch but not any better than what I can buy, and I didn’t feel like bothering. I saw DeeDee pass by the end of my aisle, thankfully still absorbed in the list on her phone, so I made a beeline to the checkout. I made it out of the store without being seen.
Since I had not managed to buy frozen chicken, I went to Kroger. They were out of frozen chicken, due to the now ever-present supply chain issues, but they had frozen toasted ravioli on sale buy one get one free, so I bought two bags. I checked out and returned to my car, when I suddenly realized, I could have purchased fresh chicken at Publix or at Kroger! Tears burst out of me again. I called Arthur, sobbing about not remembering fresh chicken and having five bags of ravioli instead.
Arthur said, “Tandoori ravioli might be interesting . . . Where are you?”
I laughed through my sobs at “Tandoori ravioli” and said, “I’m in the parking lot at Kroger. I could go back in and buy fresh chicken. I don’t know how I didn’t think of it! This is my brain on grief . . .”
“Sweetie, it’s okay. Just come home. I wasn’t planning to make the Tandoori chicken until Monday anyway.”
While helping me unload the car, Arthur asked, “Why five bags of ravioli?”
“You’re talking to the person who couldn’t understand buying fresh chicken instead of frozen would work. This is my brain on grief. We’ll give a couple bags to my mom. I’ll make a double batch of sauce and we’ll give her some to go with the ravioli.”
My mom decided she didn’t want to go to church that Sunday and would watch the service online instead. We took her lunch after church and ate ravioli, which was delicious.
I decided for self care because I did not want to leave the house on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. Since I had not had a day to stay home for at least six months, this would be a blessing, but it was a blessing requiring preparation. I took my mom out to lunch on December 30. I did not think she should be alone on the day that would have been her fifty-fifth wedding anniversary. My mom was glad to go to lunch, but said, “It’s not my anniversary any more.”
Her comment almost made me burst into tears as I told her, “Dad’s death does not change the fact that this is the anniversary of the day you married him.” She shrugged.
We ate at Olive Garden since Italian is our ultimate comfort food. I hoped they would not ask us the frequent question if we were celebrating anything because I would have definitely burst into tears. We had a nice lunch, and I took my mom to the grocery store to make sure she would be okay from Thursday until Sunday so I could have my two days at home. I carried in her groceries for her and asked if she needed me to do anything before I left. She asked me to get the Christmas boxes out of the closet, so she could take down her Christmas tree over the next few days. I was surprised, since my grandma and my mom never took a tree down before Epiphany, but I didn’t argue with her. After getting everything settled, I tried to hug my mom, and she pushed me away. I almost made it to my car before I started sobbing.
I had a good cry, and went to the grocery store to make sure my husband Arthur and I would be well stocked, too. I had made a list of the ingredients for several comfort food items. Arthur wanted me to go to Costco since he really likes their frozen chicken breasts that are individually wrapped to prevent sticking together. My mom’s apartment building is right behind Costco, so it was convenient, but as I drove by, the parking lot was absolutely packed and I could not deal with that level of crowds, so I continued driving to Publix.
I found most of what I needed at Publix, but they did not have frozen chicken. I even asked about it. While looking for frozen chicken, I did find frozen ravioli, which sounded really good to me. There was one brand on sale, but I refused to buy it, because the brand manufacturer thinks four ravioli constitutes a serving! Four ravioli does not a serving make unless they are the ginormous, gourmet, palm-sized sort shown on the Food Network. The other brands thought nine or twelve ravioli was a serving, which was much more reasonable. I bought three bags of different varieties. I had already planned on making spaghetti sauce from scratch.
I looked up, and in the freezer aisle checking her list on her phone, was one of my closest friends, DeeDee. She hadn’t seen me, and I fled. DeeDee is one of maybe five people on the planet for whom I cannot put on an act of being okay. She would have smiled brightly upon seeing me, hugged me, asked how I was doing, and I would have started sobbing hysterically right in the middle of the freezer aisle at Publix. Plus, DeeDee lives on the other side of town, so her shopping at this Publix meant she was going to her boyfriend’s house. If I started sobbing, she would insist on driving me home, and either Arthur would have to take her back to her car, or her boyfriend would have to come get her.
I vacated the freezer aisle, and went to the pasta aisle. I bought vodka sauce which I thought would be a better pairing for the sausage and fennel ravioli than the sauce I make, and also found gnocchi. I can make gnocchi from scratch but not any better than what I can buy, and I didn’t feel like bothering. I saw DeeDee pass by the end of my aisle, thankfully still absorbed in the list on her phone, so I made a beeline to the checkout. I made it out of the store without being seen.
Since I had not managed to buy frozen chicken, I went to Kroger. They were out of frozen chicken, due to the now ever-present supply chain issues, but they had frozen toasted ravioli on sale buy one get one free, so I bought two bags. I checked out and returned to my car, when I suddenly realized, I could have purchased fresh chicken at Publix or at Kroger! Tears burst out of me again. I called Arthur, sobbing about not remembering fresh chicken and having five bags of ravioli instead.
Arthur said, “Tandoori ravioli might be interesting . . . Where are you?”
I laughed through my sobs at “Tandoori ravioli” and said, “I’m in the parking lot at Kroger. I could go back in and buy fresh chicken. I don’t know how I didn’t think of it! This is my brain on grief . . .”
“Sweetie, it’s okay. Just come home. I wasn’t planning to make the Tandoori chicken until Monday anyway.”
While helping me unload the car, Arthur asked, “Why five bags of ravioli?”
“You’re talking to the person who couldn’t understand buying fresh chicken instead of frozen would work. This is my brain on grief. We’ll give a couple bags to my mom. I’ll make a double batch of sauce and we’ll give her some to go with the ravioli.”
My mom decided she didn’t want to go to church that Sunday and would watch the service online instead. We took her lunch after church and ate ravioli, which was delicious.