There is a whole first chunk I don’t remember…
I sat down at a small table in a kitchen. The table had one side against the wall and the 3 sides had chairs. The table was covered in a vinyl table cloth with a pattern that had tiny flowers in pink and blue.
My mom sat on the one side, her back to the sink, stove and window. I sat down a mug with coffee in hand on the opposite end. The middle seat opposite the wall was open, waiting for my sister who was still milling about in the kitchen. Natural sunlight streamed through behind the lightly stained white curtain in the window above the sink. The kitchen was a small one, narrow, only slightly more than double the width of the table where we sat.
My sister brought over a tray right out of the oven. They looked like giant taco or tortilla shells, folded in half, stuffed with a Mediterranean flavoured ground lamb, a minty sauce and greens of some sort. The shell was toasted a golden brown in the oven, crispy. They smelled absolutely delicious. She tried to set it down on the table. The tray alone took up almost the whole table. My mom and I had to move our cups and rearrange some things.
The rest I don’t recall in detail. I think they asked me about my life and I got mad and frustrated because I didn’t want to talk about it. I was just very focused on picking away at the crispy meaty tortilla thing, distracted from the conversation.