Dinnertime

When entering the epicenter that is our kitchen I immediately sensed the seismic activity My ears tuned to the argument that was ensuing the growing magnitude on the Richter scale the continental drift between my mother and father It made me turn to follow Denali (the family dog) who was smart enough to flee ....He knew before me "Get back here" my father yelled "where do you think you are going" said my mother I knew i was walking into a 7 potentially an 8 In a mantra I chanted minimize damage minimize damage minimize damage So I sat silent at the table lowering my eyes hoping not to add to the mounting friction the electrical unrest Dinnertime conversation was always the same .... who was at fault who is crossing the line & I the seismologist was expected to referee Their ring of fire I could tell by the cool crust of my mother and the hot mantle of my father that the earth was shifting and in the silence that ensued... that hair standing straight on my neck the eerie calm before the storm I was not prepared for the flash of tectonic plates flying across the room my mothers aim dead on the cracking of shelves and glass the splintering of the boards beneath our feet the aftershock of my father's fury Me Quaking