Food Fight

Unable to cook much of anything lately, my mother has been microwaving hot dogs for lunch almost every day for two years. Last summer, one of my sisters, a vegetarian, was visiting when our mother started making lunch. Unhappy with her eating habits, my sister pointed at the plate in our mother’s hand and told her she could not eat a hot dog that day. Our father overheard the conversation and, thinking that a new menu was a good idea, chimed in as well.

Our mother’s usual reply to this kind of situation was to harass her assailants with witty comebacks, logical objections, or sassy remarks. Due to the progression of the disease, she could think of none of these, and she just stood, staring at my father and sister, blinking back anger.

After an awkward minute of silence, she communicated the only way she could think to do so—by crinkling her nose and snorting like a pig. She snorted at my sister, took a few deep breaths, and snorted at my father. She then turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen holding her head high.

Needless to say, she still eats hot dogs every chance she gets.