Chopping Along
Knife steadied, I proceeded to chop sweet pepper. Choppy chords of a Chopin prelude dominated the airwaves as the sound of an overhead chopper faded. “Anything else to add to our Chopin list? Sorry, couldn’t help it,” husband laughed. Lucky he’s not on my chopping block, I thought. “Don’t forget. Mother’s here for dinner tonight,” I said. Onions appeared next on my chopping board. “What are you making, Mom?” I turned around to answer: “Vegetarian Chop Suey.” “No lamb chops? That’s okay,” my boy surmised. “Don’t think grandma’s choppers can take anything tough. Does she know how to use chopsticks?
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and many friends.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.