She made sponge cake
Like joy in the afternoon
With smells of flour, eggs, sugar
Apple cake always with cinnamon
Honey, raisins, nuts, and vanilla.
And luscious potato kugel
With onions chopped so fine they were invisible.
There was always food for strangers or dogs
I would bring home.
Travels of a teenage soul
Or college student with compassion
For the lost and lonely.
If we could have stayed
Little girl and wiser Mother
It might have been enough
To keep us whole, connected.
Joined at the hip was never to be
Not for us…
Though on cold wintry days
With snow weighing down limbs
I still open doors on cupboards
Gently, ever so gently.
Whispering through my kitchen
Remembering joy rising
Upside down on Coca Cola bottles
On brilliant, lazy Arizona afternoons.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
*On Blog Talk Radio March 25, 2010