onion

A vegetable of tears, the name of a satirical paper, a food of central Europe. And as a food – unforgiving. Bad vibes, bad breath, sad days, long days.

One daughter returns to her home out east today and this causes me to think the following: daughters are irreplaceable. Sons must be as well, but I don’t know anything about sons. I only have daughters.

I wrote earlier to her that even in the silence of a sleeping daughter, there is the comforting noise of her presence. The anticipation of a waking moment. The knowledge that you can shout up and get a (mumbled, sleepy) response.

In the evening, I go to Whole Foods to buy vegetables for dinner. No onions. Forget nutrition, forget the good price. Dumb vegetable of sadness.