Grandma’s Kitchen

DAILY ADDICTIONS PROMPT: BREAD

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Some people have stories

about watching their Grandmothers or Great Grandmothers

baking fresh bread in their kitchens.

 

The sun was always streaming through the windows on those bread baking days

as  Grandma told her stories  about her Mother baking bread

once upon a time and long ago

and magically you could still smell Spring flowers in her warm Fall kitchen

as she melodically told her story

and you clung to each word.

 

Sweet memories

always warm and tasty as we share them

exactly like the  bread Grandma used to bake.

 

My Grandma

didn’t bake bread and she didn’t tell sweet kitchen stories

from long ago.

 

My Grandmother

used to tell me ghost stories

that she kept warm on her baker’s rack

we shared them

hungrily, ravenously

between us when the world was  dead asleep.

 

Her stories still  come alive for me

and

they magically fill  the air

falling around me like crispy autumn leaves

when I am in my kitchen

and the world is dead asleep

and winter is setting in.

Thinking Out Loud

Photo by Matthis Volquardsen on Pexels.com

 

Is that my face

in the mirror

are those my eyes looking at me

with cool, cruel indifference?

 

I reach out my hand, draw it back, extend  a finger

tap, tap, tap

Is anybody home?

Are those my teeth,

is that my hair

when did those lines around my mouth appear?

 

That can’t be me

that  tired listless, expressionless face

has it ever dreamed, schemed or plotted

an escape, a murder or revenge?

 

Tap tap tap

against the mirror

clouding it with the cold that escapes from my lungs

and clings to it like poison gas

on a battlefield

from Once Upon A Time.

 

That can’t be my face.

It’s just to-

Human.

 

DAILY ADDICTIONS: LOUD

Horace Says

According to my clock, it’s time to wake up

according to my calendar there are places I should be

according to the note I left myself, there are books I’m supposed to read

according to Universe and all of the planet therein

if I drop one or the other

the Heavens will continue to spin.

DAILY ADDICTIONS: DAY

Remember Me

 

A few weeks ago I saw the remains

of a person who had been hit by a train.

 

They were scattered along the tracks-

and it was hard to imagine that these parts

had once been together

and that

they had been an entire single body

and that body

had a name and a place in the world.

 

Strewn along the tracks

is not a place in the world anyone should occupy

and nobody should be called by that name.

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: IDENTITY

 

 

 

 

I Thought I Heard Screaming

I was out for a walk

and on my walk is a gully full of trees.

I decided to take a few pictures because it’s a pretty spot surrounded by scab of careless city planning and as I was doing that I thought I heard something.

It took me a minute, but I figured that all I was hearing were some noisy birds, some cars and a few barking dogs. But you know that wasn’t it, that wasn’t what I was hearing.

It nagged at me. I couldn’t figure out what that ‘almost’  sound was.

So to distract myself, I decided to check out the pictures I had grabbed and that’s  when I noticed that the trees in my pictures were covered with vines.

The vines are thick and nasty looking and I think, from what I’ve recently , they can kill those trees.

Now I think I know what I was hearing.

I think  I heard screaming.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

DAILY ADDICTIONS: Weird

Inspiration Has Teeth

When I was little

my Dad’s mother

insisted that my cousin, a tiny fair-skinned naturally blond child with blue eyes

looked like Shirley Temple.

She insisted my cousin was talented  and special in all  things requiring God given gifts like singing and dancing and being charming.

I was not tiny or fair-skinned or blond.

I did not have blue eyes.

I was told my hair looked like a rat’s nest because it was dark and long and usually messy and that my skin was ‘muddy’ and that I had a ‘grating voice’.

But my Dad’s mother did offer me a bit of constructive advice.

She advised me to develop some kind of talent and to work on my personality because I concluded by the unkind smirk on her face,  that was my only hope at not being a total piece of human wreckage.

I can’t tell you how successful I was, but I’m an okay writer and I’m great with dogs and I’m not afraid to take a punch and my best talent is that I can roll my eyes up into my head and I have no feeling in part of my face so I can stick pins in there and not feel a thing.

Combined with the eye rolling thing, it’s pretty spectacular.

As to my talented Shirley Temple look a like cousin, I have no idea how far her natural God-given talents took her.

She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with my Grandmother or the rest of her immediate family after her Mother died.  Trust me she had her reasons and I don’t begrudge her that. She moved away in her twenties and never looked back.

I, on the other hand was there  just before Grandmother died.

Me and my rat’s nest hair and ‘muddy yellow skin’.

I  wonder if she was disappointed that my face being one of the last she saw and not one that belonged on a Christmas card.

It’s not one of the questions that I wonder about and it certainly doesn’t torture me because

without a doubt

I know the answer.

Daily Addictions Prompt: Develop