Memories of Ma

Today is the 34^th anniversary of my mother’s death. She left behind 6 children, one only 15.  Also left behind was her childhood best friend, Maid of Honor, and my godmother, also named Jean.  Recently we both traveled to the wedding of my youngest sister’s daughter.  Sitting in the church, listening to my sister sing, Jean sobbed softly next to me whispering, ‘It’s not fair.  Jeannie should have been here.’

Later, all the sisters were asked to slice and distribute the wedding cakes.  I felt a presence behind me and knew that my mother was there with us.

I often feel my mother’s presence, but most often when food is involved.  This is dedicated to her.

Sweet Revolution

I crave chocolate chip cookies.

not so much for the eating, as for the making;

for that ache in my wrist as I bear down with a fork

upon slabs of butter and grains of sugar,

for the heady rush of almond extract

and the memory of my mother

wrapped in a favorite apron,

white Tupperware mixing bowl in hand

and an eager child fetching ingredients.

I remember the first day

we used almond instead of vanilla extract,

and giggled like we’d ditched class.

When my unknowing daughter, a generation later

suggested we use almond instead of vanilla

we giggled again as we dug out dented spoons.

For years my sifter gathered dust

as an antiquated, home-ec curiosity,

but now when I feel Ma standing behind me

and my daughter standing next to me

we fill the sifter, squeeze the handle

and slowly mix the ingredients by hand.

I wonder if Ma shakes her head

at the free-range eggs and fair-trade chocolate

of my pantry as affectations,

or smiles at these secret acts of resistance

gleefully committed with my daughter.

She died far too young, and took with her

many secrets of her kitchen.

But one sister found the white mixing bowl,

another took the frayed and stained apron,

still another chose the sifter.

I kept memories,

and the blotchy recipe cards

in her graceful cursive hand

that she sent with me to college.

And so we sift,

we remember,

we commit revolution -

With you Ma, with you