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