What's For Dinner? Medicare


Chrycka Harper, Poet & Literary CriticLast Modified: 00:44 a.m. DST, 16 January 2014

The following prose was inspired by the enactment of the Medicare Prescription Drug, Improvement, and Modernization Act.

Dear Journal,Eden Writing in Her Diary, Photo by Eden, Janine, and Jim

Today, Jamesha, Wei, Spirit, and José came over to play. We played Hide & Seek, Tag, Red Rover, and a lot more other stuff. We played so much that we got really hungry. My dad was in the dining room, so we ran there to ask if we could get some pizza. My dad and 10 other adults were in the room.

Our walls were painted a light cremé color and the room was “decorated with the finest collectibles,” said my dad. But I don't like the walls and the “collectibles” are ugly. We ran around the really big and strong dining table. My dad said it was made out of African Blackwood. And the legs are so tall, I can stand under the table.

Anyway, the adults were busy talking. One man was standing next to an old woman and yelling at her. My dad's face was very red. One woman was talking on her cell phone. And two men were working on something important on their computers.

It was weird because when I make noise in that room, my dad tells me to be quiet. But he didn't say anything to us. The adults kept saying “drugs” and “money” and “government” and “good.”

Finally when my dad knocked on the table two times, everybody in the room got quiet. The adults looked down at us kids, smiled, and asked, “so... what's for dinner?”

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