Memorial Barbecue

Something is missing.  I am hungry for something else.  I am lonely, though perhaps I shouldn’t be. 

I went outside today and cleaned up my backyard for the first time this year.  I had never touched the barbecue before.  It was my husband’s.  It felt wrong to my fingers, as though I’d come across a man’s shaving brush and razor; rightfully outside of my purview. 

I turned one of the burners on.  “Just push down and turn, Mora, just like on your stove,” I told myself.  So I did.  I wanted to become accustomed to it.  I wanted to feel comfortable with myself, without a man to operate my barbecue.  I made myself turn each of the burners on and then off.  I smelled gas, but refused to panic.  The smell went away.  Everything was okay. 

Remember “Games of Chance” guy?  When I went back inside he had posted the following status update on Facebook: “Looking for a good barbecue.  Anyone have a suggestion?”  I swear to God.  That was what it said.  I didn’t reply. 

Donny remains in the picture.  I don’t know if he is not enough for me, or if he doesn’t want to give me all that I want, or if no one can ever give me all that I want.  I still want more. 

♥Mora

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