Our tires crackle on the driveway
I spill out of the back seat, muscles stiff
The screen door hinge whines
Big soft arms emerge to pull us inside
A gasp - “You got so big!
*******************
The screen door snaps behind
Fantom scent of a cigarette smoked
Mud room, slop sink, laundry soap aroma
Jokes, laughter, and “How was the drive?”
Then “Wadayuz wanna eat?”
********************
Ham, salami, capicola, but it’s the onions
That take over the air in the kitchen
Bright and ugly green and orange vinyl
Creaks and squeaks like improvisational jazz
Happy, loud, and crowded
About the Creator
Leslie Writes
Another struggling millennial. Writing is my creative outlet and stress reliever.
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