Today, they are men at my table. They eat plenty, probably making
up for the years of PBJ and fish sticks. Announcing requests – “Can we have
chili one night, and chicken casserole, and meat loaf?” “Can we have BBQ and catfish?” I know their favorites
and had planned accordingly.
I also watch them interact: as men, as brothers.
How they seem to admire each other, how they collaborate and communicate. They are 8 years apart in age, but they relate in a closer way.
Feeding sons is an important task, one a mother takes seriously.
Feed them well, but always, with more than food.
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