look down a long table
seated around it are the beings that make your life
the first mouth that kissed you
your father, the rare hugger, stiff proud provider of shoes
and love (disguised as criticism)
your brother/sister who kicked your ass so much that the callus remains that makes you tough and strong and teflon
the family acquaintance that went too far
the family acquaintance that once told you you'd never be a writer (he's there in the worse seat, the one right by the kitchen, being made to read this blog 15 times before he gets served any dinner)
Your wise, loving auntie with the "bosom of comfort", who's refrain is "C'mere, baby."
Your friends, the fabric of your present
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