An empty chair gathers dust in the garage, pale & stained
with dried out apple juice & cheerio crumbs.
There's a plastic booster strapped atop it, tightened fast
to keep safe what's precious, babies wild in their 
hunger & joy. They learned to share in this chair, 
to say please, and to thank their mom.

Sometimes these days we're in our digital corners, 
eating while on screens. Timelines & due dates
interrupt & splinter & threaten what holds us together.
The refrigerator opens & closes before I can remind
them we're eating soon. They're hungry now. "Okay, 
not too much." The table sits empty in a full busy house.





Image from Kenneth Lonergan's You Can Count On Me.