by Tara Jacoby

Created on: October 26, 2008

At 2:30, four burners stop glowing.

Although the oven's still going.

One table, filled with plastic containers.

One sinkful of dishes, drip in the drainer.

Fourteen different meals are labeled and portioned.

Fourteen plastic lids are tightly fastened.

Into the freezer for fouteen, quick easy dinners.

Looking forward to fewer of life's many pressures.

At 2;30, a moment in the cold air's refreshing.

After hours spent tirelessly, cooking and baking.

Sleaveless, under the silent sky.

At peace in the stillness, just the moon and I.

At 2:30, I've just finished two weeks of cooking.

No stregnth to prepare food after long days of working.

Spaghetti squagh with parmesian, sausage and ricotta.

Burgers topped with sauce and cheese, to taste like pizza.

Stirfried string beans with chicken and soy sauce.

Crisply broiled, seasoned yellow squash.

Wild rice with chicken and mushroom.

The freezer's now full, there's no more room.

At 2:30 I stand before one disasterous kitchen.

I dread for a moment, and debate my mission.

One cutting board overflown with squash seeds and shavings.

One stove splattered with chicken scraps and soy sauce drippings.

One counter littered with bowls and utensils.

One garbage disposal noisily rumbles.

One floor, christened in stir fry splatter.

One sink sprinkled with vegetable matter.

At 2:30 on the porch, I procastinate.

Iced tea and cool air, help motivate.

Two sleepy eyes awaken to caffeine.

Soon, all that's left is sparkle and sheen.

At 2:30 I stand, admiring the completion.

Of two weeks of dinner, now minus the burden.

Learn more about this author, Tara Jacoby.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.