Simply tofu. Simply.

Today I lapped the supermarket too many times looking for tofu. I wasn't thankful for the exercise because I had just gotten off work and the blisters forming on the tips of each of my big toes were sending signals to my face to appear sour. The third associate I asked for direction probably picked up on my attitude and there were no obligatory smiles exchanged. I didn't even look thankful, let alone say thank you. I was an angry lady.

All day I'd been tip-toeing around my notoriously unpredictable mood swings like a mother afraid of waking her demon child. My rage roused from its slumber but was craftily quelled by a chocolate soy pudding cup eaten in the car on the way home without a spoon. Memories of fourth grade cafeteria food and after-school snacks swirled around my tongue as I drove across town in a vehicle reminiscent of an adulthood I was forced into by time coupled with my mother's constant insisting I get a job with good benefits. The beast within drifted off again like a half-sleeping, whimpering infant grasping and suckling an invisible breast in his dream.

At my front door I juggled my groceries and keys and chuckled at the simplicity of the situation that frazzled my nerves past rationality and the simplicity with which they were calmed again.

I love soy pudding cups and tofu just the same.