GloPoWriMo 40717 Shaking Out Memories

Shaking Out Memories

Teen cousins race upstairs
Just before midnight
"Gramma, where's the shaker?"

Tin cinnamon sugar shaker
Blue swirls of paisley
Square handle

Oh, those Saturday mornings
of burnt toast mom heated in the broiler,
burnt toast saved by the aroma
of cinnamon and the sweetness
of sugar; we kids watching
morning cartoons so quietly
while Dad slept in just a little
before his extra day of work began
so we kids could enjoy Bambi
at the Capital Theatre;

Oh, and at my own kitchen table
of that sweet cinnamon taste without the charcoal burn,
Two sons chattering about soccer game day
and a late afternoon of backyard play and bike ride races,
brothers always together
in admiration and competition,
bonded forever.

Ah, A memory of cousin play
at snow-draped cabin racing in tubes
down a slick slope and trudging up again for more,
brothers and sisters laughing as their children
swirl and twirl, screaming in delight
at the winter wonderland, and
returning to hot cocoa and cinnamon toast
with the blue shaker brought along to ensure a memory,
only to leave it for the next holiday renter.

"Lost," I say, and quickly pull a near-empty tarragon spice bottle
from the rack, to empty and clean out the sweetness of spice
to mix in cinnamon and sugar for the two hungry cousins
on a midnight food run for favorite treats, ready for a late night of
chatter and catch-up and planning the hike to the Bat Cave
and Fiddle Creek and an ice cream run at the gas station
during Spring Break at Gramma and Grampa's

[giggles] "Here you go!"

"Thanks, Gramma."

[sigh] [smile]
More memories shaking out...


Sheri Edwards
GloPoWriMo
40717
Fortuitous Poem


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