I was standing in the kitchen when it hit.
Four sleepless nights in.
There were dishes on every square inch of countertop
coats in our chairs
stacks of mail
dog harnesses and leashes and toys
an unopened toaster in the center of the table
the recycling overflowing it’s box in the kitchen
the garbage overflowing its can in the entryway
I hadn’t showered
the coffee was gone
I was trying to pick up
but there was nowhere to put anything
I grabbed a Coronita from the fridge
I knew I needed a moment
a quiet moment
a cold, little beer
and everything would look possible again
but there was no opener.
I began to feel a little desperate
rifling through boxes I already knew the openers weren’t in
and wondering for the fiftieth time this week why we didn’t have a key rack yet.
There are openers on ALL of our key chains
yet I couldn’t find a single one.
But I need this little beer!!!!
I need a little moment,
to close my eyes and imagine a completed kitchen, I love
A pantry with shelves
a living room with furniture
just one moment of peace
if I don’t get it . . .
sweet college years
and sweet, ugly counter top we plan to rip out
so I felt no guilt as I held the beer against it’s edge
and slammed the bottom of my fist into the cap
on a grin
as it flew off with a satisfying pop.