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the missing onion

Every Fourth of July mom and
dad would have a party for all of
their friends. Sandy and I at
night would get a ladder and
climb to our rooftop so we
could see the fireworks from
neighboring towns. Well one
year, at the party, mom was
getting all the food together,
she always made so much food
for everyone, and she was
finishing the salad, but she
realized that she was missing
the onions. “I know I cut an
onion for the salad,” she said.
“Help me look for it.” So Sandy
and mom and I were walking
around the kitchen looking for
an onion, cut up. Frantically
searching. Not on the counter,
not in the refrigerator. “It’s
coming to me!” mom yelled out
during the search, and we all
stopped for a clue toward finding
the prized minced onion. “It’s...
it’s in tin foil.” Okay, so now
we’re looking for a smelly ball
of wrinkled metal, this is a good
lead. And we’re all just laughing
so hard because we’re looking
frantically for an onion mom
misplaced this morning. Well,
mom finally gave up and left the
search party because she had to
bring the salad outside, with or
without the beloved tear-jerker,
and so she starts to toss the
salad, but something is heavy
on the bottom. “Oh, silly me,” she
says, and pulls the aluminum foil-
laden vegetable out from the
bottom of the bowl.

To this day, whenever we
remember something, we say,
“It’s coming to me,” and laugh.