A Nice Combo

Last night I wanted the Teenager to go for a walk with me,
but on the way out the door saw a bag of Combos on the counter.

We never have junk food around, so I called out, "Who got the Combos?"

"You can have it!" yelled the Husband,

and the Teenager and I both lunged for it at the same time,
grappling with each other,
crunching the bag up,
until he held it high above my reach

and I jumped up and down grabbing for it.

I finally crawled over him from the back and reached the
bag, almost completely smashing it,
and we wrestled for a few seconds until I finally
ripped it open.

The Husband rolled his eyes, but the Teenager and I
were in serene congeniality about it,
mutely agreeing

that we would be sharing these while exercising,
and completely okay with the irony of power-walking down the street
sharing a crumbly bag of Combos.

So we ate them while we headed down the road,
and we laughed and talked,
and stopped being mother and son,
as we are accustomed to doing.

It is a relief for both of us to drop our roles,
and I think
that for a little while in the moonlight,
some nights a week,
two jokers ambling around in the dark together,
as friends
is an okay thing.

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