Baby, You’re a firework!

A loud boom shakes us from our reveries. My daughter and I stare at each other in shocked silence. The dogs start quivering in fear and whining from the explosion.

I braced myself for another one - as they come fast and furious this time of year - but this sonic boom sounded like it was on top of us. It is a bit early in the day for fireworks. And the news anchors remind us every year that celebratory gunfire is illegal in South Carolina. But, rules - who follows those things, right? My neighbors behind me love a good party - so I figured it was them and paid it no heed. The dogs were calm again and I drifted back into my book.

I thought it was a one-and-done…until it happened again. And this time I realized that it came from inside my house. The smell of burning twinged my nostrils - something very bad has happened in the kitchen. It was then I realized what had happened and my stomach sank to the bottom of my toes. 


The clanging still resonating in my ears; a bell that tolls for thee. There is no one here besides my daughter and me - and she has abandoned me in my time of need. I’ll have to handle this quickly before things got even worse.

I didn’t want to face what was behind that door. I wanted to run away and pretend it didn’t happen. For someone to come to my home and clean up the catastrophe that I unwittingly caused. I take a deep breath and prepare myself to witness the aftermath of the destruction that occurs following such a sound. I don’t want to face this alone; more importantly I do not want to plague my child’s memory with this horror. My daughter peeks from around the corner.

I want to shield her young mind from this carnage, but I am secretly glad for the back up. I slowly open the door, its hinges creaking as if judging me. I don’t want to look but I must. “Oh. My. God. Mom…” Lena’s shocked words echo my sentiments.

It was worse than I could have imagined. I wish my baby wasn’t there to witness such complete and macabre destruction. Why did this have to happen? I thought I had taken all the precautions and necessary steps - but it obviously wasn’t enough. We should have seen the signs. We could have stopped this. Now all that is left is the gruesome entrails of a shattered soul.

I begin to scoop the viscera. Unceremoniously they are deposited into a Pyrex coffin. Scrubbing takes my mind off the task, and makes quick work of the repugnant chore. A few more swipes and the scene of the accident has been cleansed.

I say a quick prayer:

Dear God;
Please welcome this spaghetti squash into your kingdom. Its time here on Earth was short and stringy, and it came to a terribly violent ending. For this I am sorry. Also, please inspire me to whip up some other dinner with this bowl of spaghetti squash guts. My husband is on his way home and always makes fun of the way I can screw up dinner - even in the microwave.
Amen.

And in the seventh hour: there was spaghetti squash quiche. And it was good.

Tracy Winslow is a professional chef and is available for catering your next event! Just kidding. She’s the owner of Shrimp and Knits - the premier yarn shop in the Low Country. When she’s not blowing up gourds or hawking fiber, she is getting ready for her little girl to move off to college, taking care of a zoo of pets, and ordering take out. shrimpandknits.com