Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?
If everything is connected then I would want to have dinner with you. They always say it’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with. I swish the thought in my mouth. If the cake is dry, do you spit it out or swallow? It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with. I have been spending dinners alone lately. It was not too long ago when I spent every dinner for six months with one other person. We shared different kinds of dinners: quick, in a rush, on the move, across from each other, one next to each other, arguments and split water. In childhood, my family ate like the three bears, slowly, all at once, and waiting for the other to be done. In adulthood, it is similar but I am not with the same people. Is it not important to me anymore that I eat together. I like the way a grape tomato pops between molar and molar. Wine is holy savory. It is last. It turns the page. It watches the candle share the room.