Bacon and Scrambled Eggs


Bacon and scrambled eggs
We're served bacon and scrambled eggs on the special day
Scrambled Eggs;
Fluffy, unlike the bed my dad has to sleep on every night
Yellow, matching the ribbon that is used to support him
Cooked, like the sun does when it beats on him
Long, days are waiting for him to return
Brown, matching his boots that he laces for combat
Stiff, because we all know what's to happen.
The grease of the bacon that you poor down the sink is like when I consume bacon and scrambled eggs.
It slides down, making it's way to a deeper purpose like my memories.
I get queasy and sick because bacon and scrambled eggs weren't supposed to be anything but a breakfast food you consume and forget about for the rest of the day. It's not supposed to be a constant reminder of what I'm trying to forget.
I can't stomach bacon and scrambled eggs, just like I can't stomach the feeling of when I know my dad is leaving for another war.
We were served bacon and scrambled eggs while we all sat at that dining room table early in the morning, dreading what was coming next and we all put on a brave face because no one wanted to break like that egg shell that made our breakfast.
So we sat and pretended we weren't eating bacon and scrambled eggs.


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