It's inevitable, you know,
that I forget something.
It could be the crushed tomatoes for the chili or a can of peanuts,
the extra bag of pretzels that someone had requested,
so that snack time will be perfect.
Or maybe even the fresh pineapple that I myself had been craving.
This week, it's the jelly.
The simple strawberry spread that Aaron loves to eat,
on top of the peanut butter
that goes into every single sandwich
every single day.
Except for the days he eats lunch with Harper
because she has a peanut allergy.
Can you have just peanut butter? I ask him.
And he swings his gaze my way,
those light green eyes so full of mischief,
the same ones that really don't ask for much.
Silently they plead for some jelly to put between the bread,
so that his sandwich doesn't adhere
to the roof of his mouth
like the duct tape with which he plays.
And so, Melina and I will return to the store,
to pick up the jelly,
say hi to Tom and Yiota and Evan all the other friends we have
at the local Kroger Fresh Fare.
And I'll forget the bread.