I headed towards the kitchen
And there my brother stood
Struggling to mix something
Stirring so fast he let go and shook his arm
“Hey,” he called, motioning me over
Once I got there he asked me
When the consistency would be right
I said it would take awhile by hand
So we stood in the kitchen together
Taking turns stirring
Until the meringue grew thick
But just not right
We stirred for an hour to no avail
Having switched bowls twice
And using an electric whisk instead
We laughed as our parents walked in
Wondering what the ruckus was about
And insulting our terrible work
But despite our fail we baked it
And what came out
Wasn’t just our ****** meringue
But one of few memories
That we made together