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time capsule bearer
there always seemed to be flour on the table
spread out & fading at the edges
splashes of it coating her sturdy German hands
like a dry-brushed painting
they settled over the surface of creases & wrinkles
leaving darker outlines where it didn't quite reach
creating living art
as she pounded
kneading dough into shapes to her liking
apron liberally streaked in white
where she wiped her palms to start another process
the scent of bread baking
or treats cooling on racks
soft molasses cookies usually
glistening with sugar crystal coating
the window wide open
curtains rising & falling with gentle bursts of wind
and grandma singing quietly
a hymn...or a song from her past
she would tell me how she used to sing on the radio
with her sisters
like a girl group
live music broadcast back in the day
harmonizing like angels in the '30s
I always thought it quite glamorous
imagining the four of them gathered around the mic
made me feel a part of something amazing
like I descended from celebrity
her sisters were all gone by the time I came along
I've always thought it must be a lonely burden
being the last one remaining
the only one who remembered
the golden glory days
excitement & exuberant youth
no one else to remember the stories
she taught her daughters everything she knew
both in the kitchen & in voice
they were much in demand for church service
I saw them perform once or twice
they were good...if a little flat in spirit
lacking grandma's verve...her gumption
but those tunes still resound in my mind
and get me singing along every time
as I did when I helped her in the kitchen
oddly...
only one of her 6 grandchildren received her vocal gift
one great-granddaughter got it in spades
nobody else
she took her special brand of beauty with her
to the grave
I carry those hand-me-down recollections now
in honor of her amazing life
but whenever I think of her
to this day
it's always flour dusted memories
as we sang
while she baked
Published 6th Oct 2023
Author's Note
Copyright @ 2023 Willow. All rights reserved
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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6th Oct 2023 11:33pm
Yes there is nothing like reminiscing on times with grandparents, a simpler time. Our grandpa played the guitar, blues and gospel every Sunday. There was a tradition of working hard all week and the family coming together on Sunday. Great memories and a great piece Lady
7th Oct 2023 1:46pm
I come from depression Era farm stock. My Roots were the toughest in terms of survival skills, the softest in heart. They made my childhood more balanced. Music is and always has been the glue that holds things together, I feel. You bust your butt all week and then settle into the strings, keys, voice or whatever. Thank you so much for sharing your experience with your grands! 😊
7th Oct 2023 11:58pm
Hi Willow:)
This captures her spirit. It's so beautifully expressed - nurturing even.
I love the smell of anything baking in the oven. Especially bread.
The music aspect in this is blended in perfectly. Lovely read:)
This captures her spirit. It's so beautifully expressed - nurturing even.
I love the smell of anything baking in the oven. Especially bread.
The music aspect in this is blended in perfectly. Lovely read:)
8th Oct 2023 2:53pm
Music has always been woven through the fabric of my life and I attribute that to her gift. My daughter is the only great-grandchild her inherited her vocal ability...in spades. So in some ways, I feel like she's still with me. My grandmother was...everything. I'm glad you could feel that in the poem. Thank you so much for the list add and love on this one! 😊
