Forks, future and the comfort of soup.
Where are the forks?” he asks, peering in the recycling cupboard.
For 21 years our forks have been in the drawer to the right of the sink. Is looking in the bread drawer for silverware a kind of fork? The kind of fork that shows a divergent path.
I see forks everywhere. Take the job (you’re not getting any more employable), stay home with R (he’s not getting any more relatable). Spend your money (why else do you have it), save your money (you will need it). Go somewhere exciting, go somewhere safe. Do yoga, jog, journal, meditate, create, write, read, risk, clean, work, preserve, protect, live more fully.
Are these forks in the road prongs, separate paths? Or, is this soup?
I am a spoon, capable of a smooth transfer; able to carry multiple items without stabbing anything.
The forks are next door, in the compartment to my right, just above the knives.
