5:10 AM

I am sitting on the floor
around the mat we always sit around
to eat. It is 5 in the morning
before the LA heat:
Baba is silently chewing 
and my brother is half-asleep. 
The only one fully awake
is Ma, as always. 
God, I do not know how
but she is.

She places a paratha in front of me.
'Eat up'.  

It has skirmish borders
but is generally round
with a typography of brown:
dark spots and charred edges.
And I nibble at it with my hands,
slowly. 

It is 5:10. Everyone is a bit  
more awake and talking.
Except Ma,
as always.
She says her head hurts
and her saying that reminds
me of my own headache.

I finish my paratha
and give her a glass of water
and her pills. 

'Do you want another one?'
And I can already feel my stomach 
rejecting. 
I can tell she wants me to say no. 
And it's her lucky day.
 
God forbid she gets another paratha to make,
and I get another
to eat.