





































3ricn 

it er 

~lh 

vood box, 

My molher 

;, 
m, bul she didn'l Lape it 

1e ice 

:d beer cans, 
~crust, 

)lllld. 

ind-bil cheeks 
· eggs in cups of color. 

Stacy Rummel 

An Empty Nest 

In the kilchen, an egg-Limer goes off afler fifleen minules of whal seemed 
lo be to the brink of starvalioh, while Hannah, the family mult circles around 
my feet, reminding me of our walks thal I now ignore. I open the oven to 
find browning chicken - baking al a normal lempcralure. I go lo find somc­
Lhing to rolale the bird, bul when I open the utilily drawer, l find my son's 
spoon labeled Stephen in faded red lcllers surrounded barely noliceable 
oullines of red and blue balloons. I cringe, take a deep breath, quickly grab 
the something lo stab the bird with, and slam Lhe drawer shul hoping the 
empliness is only lemporary. 

* * * 
"Guess who's a big boy and no longer needs Lhe baby spoon," I asked my 

son Stephen, the pride and joy of Dave's and my life. About a week ago, Sle­
phen graduated from Lhe highchair lo a booster seal and wanted him to feel 
exlra special in his new chair. Dave and I have been looking for a personal­
ized place setling for monlhs now wilh no such luck. After weeks of search­
ing we found a sel at the local Children's Learning Slore, where we stopped 
in lo get polty lraining videos. 

S lephen jumped up and dmvn in excitcmenl asking if it was "Time eal? 
Time eat?", as he paraded around and pounded his personal miniature fork 
and spoon Logelher while I began to prepare supper. 

"Would you like to help Mommy fix ". 
It was loo lale. Stephen was already running in full toddler speed to find 

Dave and show off his new utensils. He found Dave twenty baby steps away 
in Lhe living area of the small efficiency apartmenl figuring oul the direclions 
lo Slcphen's new toddler bed. 

* * * 
The pot on the stove is boiling over as I'm absent mindedly poking at the 

chicken, causing me to quickly gather my thoughls and Lum down Lhe stove. 
Checking Lhe contents of Lhc pan wondering if Lhey are still edible, I notice 
for the firsl time since I've started cooking that I am fixing green beans and 
the majority of them are burned dry on Lhe bottom of the pan. l Lry to scrape 
al them with a wooden spoon, but the green beans have become a perma­
nenl fixture on the pan. 

* * * 
lL was a Christmas Eve. Dave grew up with four brothers, so tl1ere was 

ah\ ays a houseful. He really made sure S lephen was surrounded by family 
al all Limes especially the Holiday Season. Dave had invited his parenls 
over this year for Christmas Eve, even Lhough for Lhc past t\vo years, we have 
always gone Lo my parenl's house. Ins lead of going Lo his parent's house on 
Christmas Day, Lhe new plan was to have them slay Lhe whole week and thal 
\\e'd have Lo Lake Stephen to my side of the family cilher the week before or 

23 



24 

after. 
When everything was said and done, I found myself surrounded with 

random family members on my husband's side opening up presents and 
cramming themselves into the living room and seeping into the dinning 
room. Dave got socks and his second drill that even though my mother-in­
law knew I was also getting him one, while Stephen sat content on a moun -
tain of toys next to his dad. I was dreading to open any of my gifts from any­
one, so I saved the best one (from my in-laws) for last so everyone can marvel 
at the lavish gift his mother got me. I wasn't expecting to find the nicest set 
of pans I would ever own to be underneath the fancy gift store wrapping. 
Instead of wasting time wondering if my mother-in-law was mocking me for 
my lack of culinary skills, I took the gesture as a compliment and that we are 
finally considered "equals". For once in my life, I went over to Dave's mother 
and gave her a hug followed by a genuine thank you. 

* * * 
As I probe the bottom the non-stick pan now with a metal fork, I give up 

on the green beans and pitch the entire pan into the trash. I then venture 
over to the cupboard and lay out the remaining pans from that memorable 
Christmas long ago with my mother-in-law, and toss them into the trash. I 
dig deep into my cupboard. In the very back I pull out one of my original 
pots that I had since I first moved out. It was covered with stubborn liquid 
rings, dents for when I let Stephen play drums, and just worn from age. I 
carefully place the deformed pot on the burner and open a can of cream­
style corn and pour the contents out. 

* * * 
"He will be here in ten minutes and nothing's ready," I scream aloud, 

scolding myself I have been dating Dave for only a couple of weeks now. 
Tonight I said I would cook for him, but the only thing I know he likes is 
chicken and corn on the cob with scalloped potatoes. The only thing I have 
is the chicken and cream-style corn. This is going to be a disaster! 
I quickly put the corn on the stove, place the knob on high to make it cook 
faster, as I run to the bathroom to brush my hair - for the third time in a half 
hour! When I get done I am racing around my small efficiency apartment 
straightening up and fluffing couch cushions, pillows, anything I can get my 
hands on that might be out of place. As I light a single tea light, the doorbell 
rings and I open the door to the handsome David who is standing in the 
hallway with a single dandelion. 

"I could tell you I wanted to get you flowers, but I waited until the last 
minute and the shops are all closed," he said embarrassed. 

A deafening silence accompanied us between the four walls. Between me 
running around like an idiot constantly brushing my hair, I was sweating and 
maybe bald from excessive brushing, but I it was too late to care at this point. 

"Um, but I ah, didn't want to come empty handed," he said, sounding 
more like a question to a test. 

"It's beautiful," was all I could blurt out as I let him in, "Let's put it in 
water. It'd make a great centerpiece" 

\Ve are interrupted by the smoke 
the smoke-filled apartment and forge 
me in the kitchenette to make sure e' 
set Lhe table. The chicken is burnt. 1 
ized. I am too embarrassed to hide t1 

"It'll be okay," he says as he begin 
while I'm still humiliated, and set ou1 
between the two place settings. 

\Ve both sit down, but something 
Loes. Dave goes into the living area a 
il in wale1~ then places it in the centc 
pick al the burnt food on our plates. 

"Sorry, it's supposed to be cream 
the pol. 

"Kew meaning of caramel corn," : 
"Are you sure you don't want to c 

embarrassed he is actually going lo e. 
"This dinner is pcrf eel. I have rn 

said fighting with the chicken. 
"I'll try not to make this a habit iJ 

cheeks reddening. 
"Are you kidding? This dinner is 

sured, reaching over lo Louch my har 

The egg timer dings again and th 
open the oven to the succulent chick 
door, and set the egg timer once mor 
put the lid on the pot and wail in the 
tween the egg timer versus the fire al 
first. \Vhen the smoke alarm goes off 
off, and then make a plate of burnt cl 
over Lo the utility drawer and grab th 
down Lo eat at the dining room table. 

Shortly after we had Stephen, wt 
a family now and an efficiency aparlr 
Out here was more room for all of m 
rooms, two baths, living room, breakf 
garage would make a great "starter" r 
eel cars and collection of tools, Lo St( 
eventually his first car, to my garden 
purposes over the years. 

Al the breakfast nook in Lhe kitcl 
on Fridays until Stephen started h:i 
be full of life during the holidays, no 
living room was for entertaining guei 



, I found myself surrounded with 
l's side opening up presents and 
>m and seeping into the dinning 
·ill that even though my mother-in -
ile Stephen sat content on a moun -
ng to open any of my gifts from any­
-laws) for last so everyone can marvel 
isn't expecting to find the nicest set 
ath the fancy gift store wrapping. 
· mother-in-law was mocking me for 
ure as a compliment and that we are 
my life, I went over to Dave's mother 

Le thank you. 

!< 

pan now with a metal fork, I give up 
pan into the trash. I then venture 
aaining pans from that memorable 
aw, and toss them into the trash. I 
back I pull out one of my original 
t was covered with stubborn liquid 
drums, and just worn from age. I 
burner and open a can of cream -

!< 

nothing's ready," I scream aloud, 
e for only a couple of weeks now. 
the only thing I know he likes is 

ped potatoes. The only thing I have 
is is going to be a disaster! 
~ the knob on high to make it cook 
my hair- for the third time in a half 

md my small efficiency apartment 
iions, pillows, anything I can get my 
I light a single tea light, the doorbell 
me David who is standing in the 

flowers, but I waited until the last 
said embarrassed. 

• between the four walls. Between me 
brushing my hair, I was sweating and 
t I it was too late to care at this point. 
:mpty handed," he said, sounding 

out as I let him in, "Let's put it in 

We are interrupted by the smoke alarm, which is my cue to run through 
lhe smoke-filled apartment and forgelting to take the dandelion. Dave meets 
me in the kitchenette lo make sure everything is all right and offers lo help 
sel lhe table. The chicken is burnt. The corn is not so creamy, bul caramel­
ized. I am too embarrassed to hide the tears welling in my eyes. 

"IL'll be okay," he says as he begins lo sel lhe table with paper plales, 
while I'm still humiliated, and set out the pans on homemade potholders 
between lhe two place settings. 

We bolh sit down, bul something is missing besides the scalloped pota­
loes. Dave goes into the living area and brings back the dandelion and puls 
il in water, then places it in the center of lhe table. 'Ve begin the laugh as we 
pick at the burnt food on our plates. 

"Sorry, it's supposed to be cream-style," I say as he is guessing what is in 
lhe pot. 

"New meaning of caramel corn," he says and winks as he fills his plate. 
''Are you sure you don't want to order a pizza or something," I ask still 

embarrassed he is aclually going to eal lhis. 
"This dinner is perfect. I have never had a dinner like this before," he 

said fighting with the chicken. 
"I'll try not to make this a habit if you don't want me to," I said wilh my 

cheeks reddening. 
"Are you kidding? This dinner is Lhe best thing I've had all day," he en­

sured, reaching over to touch my hand. 

* * * 
The egg timer dings again and the corn is simmering at medium heat. I 

open the oven to the succulenl chicken and place it on Lhe top rack, close the 
door, and sel lhe egg timer once more. I turn the stove burner lo high and 
pul the lid on lhe pot and wait in Lhe dining room and listen lo lhe race be­
tween the egg limer versus the fire alarm and wonder which one will sound 
first ~When the smoke alarm goes off, I go into the kitchen, turn everything 
off, and then make a plate of burnl chicken and caramelized corn. I head 
over to the utility drawer and grab the fork and knife labeled Stephen and sil 
down to eat al lhe dining room table. 

* * * 
Shorlly after we had Stephen, we decided to buy lhe house. We have 

a family now and an efficiency apartment was too small for the three of us. 
Oul here was more room for all of us. Dave's parenls believed a three bed­
rooms, two baths, living room, breakfast nook, kitchen, and three-car stall 
garage would make a great "slarter" home. From Dave's garage for his proj­
ecl cars and collection of tools, to Stephen's plastic pool, to his tricycle, to 
cvf'ntually his first cai~ to my garden bench and area; the house served many 
purposes over the years. 

At Lhe breakfast nook in the kitchen, we would hold family game night 
on Fridays - until Stephen started having dates. The dining room used to 
be full of life during lhe holidays, now only collects dust and junk mail. The 
liYing room was for entertaining guests. The family room used for winding 

25 



26 

down at the end of the day. 
Now with Dave's position in the company and Stephen away at college, 

there is much more room in this house. Every Friday is now a reading night. 
Holidays are light years away from one another. My garden has been taken 
over by weeds. vVe have no guests stay over anymore. David practically lives 
oul of a suitcase now, so whatever was once "ours" has now become "mine". 
I find myself now lying in my bed staring at the ceiling wondering when this 
house became so quiet. My thoughts are interfered by two headlights that 
linger up the driveway, and then disappear to the rumble of the garage door 
opening. A door is open, then shut. After forty minutes of shuffling down­
stairs, heavy footsteps trudge upstairs. I roll over and pretend to sleep even 
though I am fully clothed and it is barely dusk outside. The bedroom door 
gently opens and Dave leans over the bed, kisses my cheek and whispers, 
"That dinner was the best thing I had all day". 

Brushing him off, I get up and head downstairs as he is left defeated 
sitting on the bed. I make my way towards the kitchen, but stop in the din­
ing room lo find another half-eaten plate next to mine followed by a single 
dandelion floating in water in an old sippy cup labeled Stephen. 

E 

Jase 


