Grandma's kitchen; bleached white basin,
the smell burns my nostrils.
Every window open and door propped;
a cool breeze wafting dinner's smell.
Racing grandchildren
careen around the circle table.
Applesauce on the plate with dinner;
don't forget the bread and butter.
Laughter and love in each nook and cranny;
lingering like a shadow.
Dancing and singing;
four generations learning not to take themselves too seriously.
Interesting friends, long lost family;
instant coffee and Styrofoam cups.
Never alone, never afraid;
there is always an abundance of love here.
Each and every one of us have a place
and have found solace in Jeraldine's kitchen.
Amber Meeks, January 29, 2019