Sunday, April 8, 2012

8 of 30: Grandma's Kitchen

In Writing Toward Home, Georgia Heard reminds us of this quote by Walt Whitman from Leaves of Grass, "Past and present and future are not disjointed but joined.  The greatest poet forms the consistence of what is to be from what has been and is."  I had to smile when I read this in Heard's book as Whitman's Leaves of Grass was a gift from my grandpa and grandma many years ago.  Oh, the little coincidences of life.  For a moment today as I was preparing Easter dinner I was taken back to my grandma's kitchen by the smells coming from my kitchen.  I really wanted to capture the smells, but I found that task to be quite challenging.

Grandma's Kitchen
Stepping into Grandma's house
the smell of welcome
greets us at the door.
A roast in the oven.
Pot pie on the stove.
Bread freshly baked.
Sugar-cream pie cooling on the counter.

Walking into my kitchen
the smell of Grandma's
comes back to me.
A roast in the oven.
Gravy on the stove.
Green beans simmering in a pot.
Warm peach crisp hot from the oven.

The aroma bridges the years.
For a moment I am in her kitchen,
and my kitchen at the same time.
Smiling to myself
as we gather around the table
once more.

© Cathy L. Mere, 2012


  1. Wow, Cathy, I see what you mean about our similar words of holidays sparking memories. Smells do that for me too so strongly at times. I love that you connected both kitchens together at the end, feeling so strongly that both were there together.

  2. I love the sense of smell, the "smell of welcome" in this piece. The way you use a similar structure in both the first and second stanza makes me see the two images of you and grandma in your respective kitchens as mirror images - and then the as two that overlay in the third paragraph. Beautiful, Cathy.


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