Leftovers by Jerry Durick
Leftovers Now, we’re only two, so we misjudge things, too many, too much; families grow smaller, but recipes lag a step or two behind, never adjust; refrigerators fill, various sizes of plastic containers, sandwich bags, freezer bags, original jars we can close, pretend they reseal, line up, get stacked one meal on another, crowding till they squeeze space, demand command our attention; what were we thinking, saving things we would never use and, after a while, we can’t even recall, odd smelling moldy green things, things that liquefied over time, grew white hair as they aged surrounded by other anonymous things, surrounded by the cold reality – we make too much, haven’t learned our lesson, to divide, to measure anew, revise the count, to plan better around quiet meals, our limited needs now, now that we’re only two and should know by now what leftovers are all about.