I am late to the joy of cooking
which isn’t to say that we used to eat poorly
just that it was a chore
and I would always pick healthy take-out
or get meals delivered
over the tedious starting line
of all that inanimate bulk
staring at me from the fridge
waiting for me to spice it
with mysterious containers of dust
but here we are quarantined with only each other
and the ingredients I bet on last Monday
and sitting down together for three meals
does slice up the sameness of the days
but there is also a new feeling
part love and part desperation
which is that I am not just feeding my children
it’s that as I did once and then once again
I am giving them life.