I cut into the overcooked chicken, the blade
of the knife contacting the ceramic underneath.
On my own, I am returned the responsibilities that
I had hoped for.
This specific responsibility, I never
would have imagined to regain.
The riddance of prior supervision has rewarded me
the gift of my independence.
I tie up the garbage bag, just another
responsibility I did not expect to resume.
But even the most mundane of responsibilities
can be a privilege.