Nanny’s Kitchen

I remember the September sun

diffusing through the blinds,

casting light upon the table, 

where you taught me long division.

Four o’clock

and it’s set for supper:

Forks on the left,

knives on the right,

two Flinstone vitamins for Evan and Claire.

I remember the patio door, 

wedged with a wooden pole,

removed when you went out to smoke,

or welcomed me home from school.

Home for Mac and cheese and hard boiled eggs.

Home for boogie time, peach tea, 

or permission to play with friends.

Home was wherever you were,

though I didn’t know it then

and now that I’ve grown older:

Forks on the left,

knives on the right,

boogie-time, 

even when there’s no music.

Love,

Paige E

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