The bananas are waiting
On my counter
The recipe hangs on my wall
And I have the eggs
And butter
And sugar
Measuring spoons
laying in the dusty cardboard box
That were tossed alongside
empty dried up tupperware
Almost looked discarded
But they were saved,
along with everything else
The boxes, labeled with words scribbled
Didn't contain what was written on the outside
Boxes usually create a sense of surprise
But these boxes were sitting alone
For twenty years
Waiting for something, someone, some perfect time
For us to open them
We sat them on the cold cement floor and began..
One after the other
Each one had a story
And my mind was jerked backwards
It was all going really well
Till I began sorting through this one box
Of various kitchen items
And my hands landed on the measuring spoons
The tiny ring still holding them together
A hundred moments rushed into my mind, my heart
Making cakes, pies, cobblers, dressings, icings, homemade ice cream,
giving medicine, and making stain removers with baking soda and vinegar
And banana bread
I can see her hands holding these dangling spoons
I can see her smiling
And mixing with her electric mixer
that lays in the bottom of this box
I clutch the spoons
And I begin to weep
I miss her so bad
Especially in the fall
When the crisp leaves outside take me back to walks in the woods
Where we simply enjoyed the leaves and the smell of nuts and smoky fires
It all seems so wrong
So broken
For her to not be here
I feel the unnatural end to her life
It wasn't supposed to go this way
She was supposed to be here now
To talk to me about these spoons
Because I have so many questions
The kind you don't even thing of until the person is gone
What was your favorite recipe?
What did you enjoy cooking the most?
What is your favorite food?
Can you show me exactly how to make your blackberry cobber?
Can you tell me your secret to perfect fried chicken?
What did you dream of when you were a little girl?
What was your favorite time of life?
What is your favorite season?
But in all the questions, the one I think of the most, but I dare not ask is this one.
Did you know I loved you?
Did you know that I needed you still?
Did you know that I missed you?
Did you know that I saw how strong you were?
Did you think I didn't care?
Did you know I was going to need you, a lot, in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years?
Why didn't you call me?
I would have come to you.
I would have helped you make a plan to have a good life.
I am so sorry you didn't feel like you could call on me.
I want to hold your spoons and talk to you about life.
But I want to hold you Mom.
I have a heartache today, that is bearing down on me like a heavy load of bricks.
So I am doing what I do to get these bricks off my back.
I take them down, one at a time, and look at them
Describe them.
Each brick has a word on it.
The first one was
"measuring spoons"
And the next one was
"I loved your measuring spoons"
The others came rushing by so fast, I almost couldn't read what was on them
But they were all covered in tears
And the last one is on the horizon
I am looking for it now.
Some bricks have only one word
Some have sentences
Others just a fingerprint
On my counter
The recipe hangs on my wall
And I have the eggs
And butter
And sugar
Measuring spoons
laying in the dusty cardboard box
That were tossed alongside
empty dried up tupperware
Almost looked discarded
But they were saved,
along with everything else
The boxes, labeled with words scribbled
Didn't contain what was written on the outside
Boxes usually create a sense of surprise
But these boxes were sitting alone
For twenty years
Waiting for something, someone, some perfect time
For us to open them
We sat them on the cold cement floor and began..
One after the other
Each one had a story
And my mind was jerked backwards
It was all going really well
Till I began sorting through this one box
Of various kitchen items
And my hands landed on the measuring spoons
The tiny ring still holding them together
A hundred moments rushed into my mind, my heart
Making cakes, pies, cobblers, dressings, icings, homemade ice cream,
giving medicine, and making stain removers with baking soda and vinegar
And banana bread
I can see her hands holding these dangling spoons
I can see her smiling
And mixing with her electric mixer
that lays in the bottom of this box
I clutch the spoons
And I begin to weep
I miss her so bad
Especially in the fall
When the crisp leaves outside take me back to walks in the woods
Where we simply enjoyed the leaves and the smell of nuts and smoky fires
It all seems so wrong
So broken
For her to not be here
I feel the unnatural end to her life
It wasn't supposed to go this way
She was supposed to be here now
To talk to me about these spoons
Because I have so many questions
The kind you don't even thing of until the person is gone
What was your favorite recipe?
What did you enjoy cooking the most?
What is your favorite food?
Can you show me exactly how to make your blackberry cobber?
Can you tell me your secret to perfect fried chicken?
What did you dream of when you were a little girl?
What was your favorite time of life?
What is your favorite season?
But in all the questions, the one I think of the most, but I dare not ask is this one.
Did you know I loved you?
Did you know that I needed you still?
Did you know that I missed you?
Did you know that I saw how strong you were?
Did you think I didn't care?
Did you know I was going to need you, a lot, in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years?
Why didn't you call me?
I would have come to you.
I would have helped you make a plan to have a good life.
I am so sorry you didn't feel like you could call on me.
I want to hold your spoons and talk to you about life.
But I want to hold you Mom.
I have a heartache today, that is bearing down on me like a heavy load of bricks.
So I am doing what I do to get these bricks off my back.
I take them down, one at a time, and look at them
Describe them.
Each brick has a word on it.
The first one was
"measuring spoons"
And the next one was
"I loved your measuring spoons"
The others came rushing by so fast, I almost couldn't read what was on them
But they were all covered in tears
And the last one is on the horizon
I am looking for it now.
Some bricks have only one word
Some have sentences
Others just a fingerprint
