When my sisters excuse themselves and head for the kitchen, I know I'm in
"Graduate school--at her age! Can you imagine?"
I pretend not to hear. Suddenly the constellation of fruit bits inside the
gelatin is fascinating.
"She'd better hurry up if she's ever going to have children."
Grabbing a serving spoon, I heap food on my plate. Peas, corn, mountains of
fluffy, white carbohydrates. I pause only when Kimmy abandons her peers at the
kids' table. Adorable in her tiny princess costume, my niece is still blissfully
unaware of her family's expectations.
Slowly circling the adults' table, Kimmy assesses her royal subjects. She stops
by my chair, surveys my plate, and grins. Using the serving spoon as a scepter,
she nobly confers my new title upon me:
"I dub you the queen of potatoes!"
notch by notch my belt surrenders
to the season
Haiku previously published in Frogpond 32:3 Fall 2009.