Pulling into the garage,
The soft plunk of the door handles being lifted
the faint squeak of the door opening
the thud of the doors closing, we take our bags
half walking, half stumbling inside.
Brothers united in one goal.

“What’s the ETA on dinner?”
the always occurring question in the house.
“Only around fifteen minutes if one of you help set the table.”
It’s always me…
I never want to clean the dishes, and my homework isn’t long enough
I enjoy helping her as I grab plates.
“Careful.”
“Sure Mom,”
the repetitive phrase when I help.

Pandora radio plays, drifting into my ears like the brisk fall wind.
I plop the plates and silverware
on the soft tablecloth. I grab
my fruit before dinner even starts--I’m too hungry to wait:
The explosion of sweetness as I sink my teeth into the halfway point of the honeycrisp.

“Dinner!”
The shout that means two or three minutes.
The perfect time to leave the sweet comfort of the couch’s loving embrace.
We sit down, Matthew, my brother, sneaking bites that are seen, but never pointed out.

We all sit down and hold hands, the voices, together, in harmony
bringing the moment that we had been waiting for all day.
“Bless us our lord”
My mouth waters
“and these thy gifts” The scent reaches my nose,
“Which we are about to receive from thy bounty”
I think I may be sweating
“Through Christ our lord, Amen”
And then it commences.

I thought the apple was
the epitome of happiness.
This is what momentary bliss truly is,
not the winning goal, or a fun video game…
But the feeling of warmth in your heart…
and cold going to your stomach.