Can I Help This Week?

Every Friday, a family meet up. We eat dinner, laugh together as one. Talk over problems and solutions. Grape juice sticks to my lip, creating a mustache that I don't like to swipe away cause it reminds me the Friday nights.

Running off the bus with fleeting feet as I crash through the house to what leis inside. My mom. Smelling of raw bread and whatever homemade delectable this time. I ask the same question every week. Mommy knows when I ask it.

" Can I help this week?" I ask hopeful. I already know the answer though. I can whip up feosting for the cake or cinnamon rolls. I can help shape the bread, or maybe take care of the cheese.

Sometimes I can set the table. With the scarlet worn tablecloth that we refuse to replace, candle holders that add to the sensation. Whine glasses that will be filled with juice. The fancy napkins and silverware along with the glass plates that we can only use tonight.

Can I help this week. Many chores need done. The animals and house along with the yard and room. Mommy says yes, and when daddy arrives in time to shower all the cat oil off of himself. I tell daddy all about it eagerly. Can I help this week and every week until you have more weeks to spend. Or words or breathes. So, can * help this week?