Get out of this place.

It’s become a semi-annual tradition to clean out my mother’s refrigerator when I come home. It’s always exciting to see what she’s tucked away somewhere behind the milk, in front of the eye mask she likes to keep cold. It’s amazing how close you can feel to someone by sifting through her refrigerator. This year’s discovery brings more questions about my mother’s behavioral patterns than answers, though. Why has she begun to hoard individual cups of Parmesan cheese? Does she eat a lot of pizza now?

Beebe, Arkansas. 12.22.2011.