I’ll make you speechless, he says

I sit before familiar—

salmon patties,
mashed potatoes
& black beans I imagine peas.

She tells me I don’t have to
eat this if I don’t like it.
Everyone cooks things differently,

my eyes surely growing
wide with wonder as I
thank her.

I clasp my hands
after she closes the door.
God, thank you, thank you, thank you!

I eat, savoring,
each bite allowing
memory’s well inside.

Years before, I sat
head of the table
with grandpa to my right.

Lou Dobbs and him
having a typical one way
conversations ending in dah!

A wave of the hand,
as grandma places this meal
before him, me. Or vice versa.

We said our prayers.

Grace. I think she said.

Bless us, O Lord
& these our gifts
which we are about to receive

from Thy bounty
through Christ our Lord,
amen.

This was a typical Friday
night during Lent.
Moderation.

I ate slow even then,
savoring—memorizing
what some call mundane, busiest time.

But tonight, after I had my second helping,
telling this woman I withhold calling grandma
her meal was really good, she laughs..

Well, thank you.

I hear my grandma’s
lilt, receiving her love
& pouring back generous.

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