“Mama, I’m hungry,” Cindy said.
Amanda tried to sit up, but the nausea overwhelmed her. She sank back on the couch. “There’s cereal in the cupboard,” she said.
Cindy shook her four-year-old head. “I ate it for breakfast.”
Amanda closed her eyes. “There should still be bread.”
“Daddy made sandwiches with it, for his lunch.”
“Have an apple.”
“I can’t cut it.”
“Oh, Cindy, please just find something to eat and leave me alone. Just talking about food makes me feel sick.”
Cindy crawled onto the couch and snuggled against her mother’s shoulder.
“You’ll get my germs,” Amanda said.
“Then I won’t talk about food and make you feel bad,” Cindy answered.
Amanda chuckled. She pulled Cindy closer. “Having you next to me does make me feel better,” she said drowsily.
They were both asleep when her husband came in an hour later, a bag of groceries under each arm.
Loretta Miles Tollefson © 2014