Our pantry had an empty shelf, one with tea bags and expired Quaker Oats,

Panda Puffs and organic Oreos below it, and, in rotation, Tessa’s vegan staples–

chia seeds, hemp seeds, flax seeds, bird food.

Camilla introduced breaded chicken on Sunday evenings and holding hands during grace. 

I don’t remember meals with Megan

save for s’mores at a campfire the summer she spent with us.

In between the women we were exclusively frozen—frozen Amy’s pizza, frozen chicken taquitos, frozen pizza bagels and frozen Whole Foods Hot Pockets.

A steady diet of female flattery, misplaced intimates 

in my laundry, girlfriends quizzing me 

with my stack of Spanish flashcards, el techo, el piso, la madrastra. 

Strange to think of a time of being fed, of an opinion limited to a handful of choices,

of a bed time and a dimmed night-light under a singed shade with fuchsia beads dangling 

from the bottom and at my bedside a glass of water 

and a heart-shaped paper weight my mom gave me 

to have and to hold.