Authors: Margaret Vandenburg
Rose looked from one plate to the next. This was the fruit of all her labors of love, the way her husband and children spent quality time together. Max’s potatoes were the most perfectly aligned, but Todd’s were a close second. Maureen’s configuration looked more like controlled chaos than actual order. But she had made the effort. A family that stims together stays together.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Todd said.
Fortunately, Rose still had four potatoes left, all bunched together in the center of her plate. She scraped her rib bones onto a side dish to give herself room to maneuver. Two rows of two would have formed a square, which was completely unacceptable. She prodded her potatoes into a single, elegant row of four. She used a spoon instead of a fork to avoid puncturing them. Her spacing was impeccable.
When everyone’s potatoes were lined up like so many ducks in a row, they looked at Max, if not for approval then for something, anything. He was staring, they thought, at nothing in particular. His peripheral vision included the rectangular table and the round grill. Suddenly he started clapping his hands. Todd was the first to respond. Then they all clapped with him. Something was better than nothing.