The clicking of the wheel as it hit the side spokes
A constant soundtrack to years of family dinners.
You’d sit in your chair and quickly flip it to channel 13.
For years I thought nothing of it,
Simply sat and ate my porkchop and applesauce
Listening to conversation intermixed with
“Vowels worth nothing, consonants worth…”
And Pat’s attempts at witty one-liners.
The click of the tab changed that.
You always came home and went straight to the fridge.
Click.
As time went on, things started to change.
Vanna didn’t have to turn the letters anymore,
Only walk from side to side and softly touch the lighted boxes.
More importantly, you changed too.
Without saying it, we knew
The first click we heard from you
Wasn’t your first of the day.
We’d learned long before not to mention it.
Now my nightly routine was
Munching on my meal and listening
To attention starved contestants
Solve ridiculous word puzzles
And you slurring your guesses along with them.
Needless to say, the dinners for three
Shrank shorter and shorter in duration,
Until eventually resulting in two separate
Dinners for two.
When the family dinners ended,
So did my viewing of Wheel of Fortune.
Unlike others, the jackpot round does not instill
In me a competitive spirit.
Instead, the whole thing leaves me with
An uneasy nervousness
And a desire to change the channel.