Nothing to Stew Over......

Image: "Sophia's First Snowfall" Acrylic on Canvas by Cara

Because this has been an incredibly hectic, difficult week I decided last night to make a lovely, homemade beef stew. I put down my paintbrush, picked up my wooden spoon and went to work. I thought it would cheer Her up and that having a nice, quiet dinner would give us a chance to take a breath and relax.
HER: nom, nom, NOM... this is very VERY good stew. NOM, NOM. VERY GOOD.
Me: Thanks. nom.nom.
HER: No, no, it is REALLY good. Your stew is always terrific but this one is even better! The gravy!  NOM. NOM.
Me: Well, it's the same as always.
HER: What is in it? NOM. NOM.
Me: Beef, carrots, parsnips, peas, allspice, shallots, bacon, red wine....the usual.
HER: NOMNOMNOM....I thought we were out of red wine?
Me: Nope, I found a bottle in the back of the cupboard.
HER: NOM, NOM, NO.........red wine in the back of the cupboard?
Me: Yes...old black bottle.
She appears to be choking on a carrot and has turned a strange greenish-white colour. Not very attractive, even in the candlelight.
HER: oh......no. Please don't say it was my Amarone. PLEASE.
Me: WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!! nom. nom.
HER: I WAS SAVING IT. IT COST A FORTUNE!
Me: Well, you shouldn't keep so many secrets. Do you want me to put the rest of the gravy in a wine glass?
HER: nom. NO.
Me: Well, is it still the best stew since time began?
HER: YES. It IS fabulous. NOM.NOM.
Me: Then stop wine-ing about it and enjoy.
HER: Can I at least drink the rest of the wine with my dinner?
Me: No, because I put the whole bottle in.
HER: uhhhhh.....
Me: Well, if you eat all the stew, you will be so drunk you'll forget about it until morning.

HER: ok. NOM.NOM.
Me: See? Nothing to stew over at all..........

 THE EMPTY

She slept with it last night 

close to her heart

She clutched it tightly

cold and black

Its vacancy mocked Her

coursing through Her veins

the liquid gold 

infused her dreams with lies

the pillow wet with a thousand tears

the irony weighted her soul

fitfully

She slept.

Amarone.

Amarone.

Amarone.

by Cara Kansala