I Do Not Eat Meat
Sorry she says, I don’t eat meat.
Okay, I agree. We have bread.
She shakes her head.
And fruit, I tell her.
Her eyes pop open. What is it?
Watermelon!
I am allergic to that, she tells me.
I look at my third grade daughter who is gloating in her grin.
The guest’s mama comes to get her a few minutes later.
No problem, even though I got stuck playing with her for the last hour.
Because my eight-year-old had not wanted to invite her in the first place.
Guest’s mama is thrilled that we had her over.
She thanks us over and over.
You were right, I say to my daughter, as I close the door.
Next time, let’s invite her mother, my daughter says.
There is no next time.
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