Father was a gravy hound. He hounded the best gravy. He made a little castle with mother’s mash. Ringed it with moat gravy.
Mother was a mermaid. She wore marshmallow rollers. We wore our kilts and marched with drums. We sharpened our cheekbones.
The Tupperware king brought chocolate turtles. They were nut heavy. Mother was a good friend of chocolate. The oil queen brought exotic oils. The scales fell from her body.
Before leaving, mother took me to the wooden bench and handed me the fishbowl. Brother fish made tiny tornadoes in the water. The little sprinkles, on top of the water. Life confetti.
I can’t even count the decades. Long gone from the seaside of childhood. The sun burns my face in the snow.
INSTANT NOODLES 