Remember to tell Kyle

every other day or so, there is something on NPR or some piece of information i hear or some little thing that occurs, to which i respond in my head, "i have to remember to tell that to Kyle."

it's most often about a great profession that didn't exist so long ago that would be a perfect match to his talents. or a travel opportunity that provides some income. or an exhibit in the San Francisco area that i think he would like. or sometimes it's a small domestic thing.

the other night i opened my cupboard where we keep canned and dry goods (do people still call them canned goods and dry goods?) and out flew a moth. those fairly tiny cupboard moths that portend the discovery of many more moths. i closed the cupboard.

the next night i opened the same cupboard and saw a couple of moths and looked up. uh, oh. top shelf. there's a box of corned meal. it didn't look open from where i stood but it could be. i closed the cupboard again.

last night i opened the cupboard and reached for the box and turned it around and there was the opening, a nice gaping "hey, come on little critters, come squat in this free real estate right here?" kind of hole. i held it to the light and looked inside. webby clumps of meal. moth heaven.

i started to cry. ky and his damned fish. he liked to dip fish fillets in egg and corn meal, just like his dad, sautee them up and eat hot with a heavy dose of Tapatio sauce. and leave a smelly greasy mess for me to clean up.

i took the box and the bag of flour beside it and tied them tight in a plastic bag for disposal.

dry goods and moths. one more thing i never got to tell Kyle.