Make the Drop Biscuits

The age-old question lies before you. Your mother has just called you; she’s been out all day. “Would you put the potatoes on the stove?” she asks, sweetly. You grumble into the phone, an incoherent mix of beeps and groanings, never a reply to stick to. “Do you feel like making drop biscuits?” Mom has been out all day, doing good things for people she loves, like driving them places, loving them places, cooking and cleaning and thinking them places. “No, no, I don’t,” do you say defiantly, a mixture of pain and guilt and unhappy unresolved resolution all in one breath? “Yes, mother, I love you.” Something aches in you, calls in you, your soul, perhaps. Do you lose your soul if you say no? Just a tiny bit of it, perhaps? Do you risk losing piece by piece of soul, until the sandy foundation no longer exists? No. The moral of this story is Make the drop biscuits. Do not lose your soul.