Eating Alone - John Fetto

Ginny ate in the kitchen by herself while her daughter was out, who knows where. Her food was cold, ham folded between pieces of bread, a little mustard and mayonnaise, some lettuce. With her daughter gone she could eat what she wanted, so after the ham sandwich she wheeled over to the fridge and got out the half gallon tub of chocolate chip ice cream. She set the ice cream on her lap and opened the door wide, wondering where her daughter had hid it. It was behind the milk and the orange juice and she had to stretch up high to grab it, but slowly she worked the redi whip can towards her using a piece of celery. It fell on the floor and she chased it in her wheel chair, finally corning it. She scooped it up, set it on her lap wheeled over to the drawers and took out a large spoon, then wheeled into the living room, turned on the news and wheeled back. They were still going on about the protests at Port Chicago again. Ginny didn’t care. Johnny Carson would be in a few minutes. She shook the can of redi whip and filled the top of the ice cream carton. Then she took her spoon and dipped, trying to scoop up a bit, but it was too hard. So she waited. After a few minutes, Johnny came on, smiling, she dipped the spoon again, some soft ice cream around the sides with generous heaping of whip cream and spooned into her mouth. Her daughter wasn’t around. She could eat what she wanted.