as the kitchen counter,
I can still see the flurry
of your hands, nimble,
within the cloud of flour,
rolling the dough flat
with the well worn pin, smooth,
to Seals & Croft strumming
on the transistor radio,
the melody cutting through
the static warmth of the
chicken pot, simmering,
in the center, barely done
the chicken, so tender,
the gravy, a salty brine
ladled on a pile
of mashed potatoes
all a symphony to savor,
I asked you if you could
make it for me again
when I come home to visit,
I know it won’t taste the same
the noodles will be frozen,
store bought, because your hands
are no longer nimble enough,
that was poured from that ladle
one more time,
for a briefest of seconds
I will hold my breath,
and pray that we could,
somehow, slow down time,
if just for a little bit,
and remember how it felt
all those years ago
to have so many of
our chapters unwritten,
the anticipation
of an endless
string of tomorrows
with nothing but love and
humble innocence in our eyes.
All for now. Trust your instincts, invest in you, live boldly, and take chances.
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Oh my god this is incredibly beautiful!
Thank you @owasco!
is a beautiful poem that captures the love and nostalgia of a childhood memory. The imagery is vivid and the emotions are raw and relatable. I can feel the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of the chicken pot, and the sound of Seals & Crofts playing in the background. I can also feel the love and care that your mother put into making you that meal.
The poem also captures the bittersweetness of time passing. You know that the meal will never taste the same again, but you still long to feel the love that was poured into it. This is a universal experience that I think we all can relate to.
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Hello my friend, I was very moved by your poetry, I feel that it transported me to the past and at the same time to the present, with that great contrast between things as they were and how they are changing and although they are no longer the same, one has the illusion of recreating them in any way, if your goal is to make people think and reflect with your poetry, with me you have achieved it, my friend.
Thanks!
You have just captured my whole life in your poem it seems. My mother made chicken and noodles every week or two throughout my childhood and all through adulthood, too. I lived with her during her last few years and as her strength faded, I picked up the standard and started to do the heavy chores, which included cooking. She would sit on a stool and instruct me on the proper procedure for preparing her tried and true family favorites. It's funny though, as much attention as I paid to getting it right, my noodles are not quite as tender... but they nevertheless bring a tear to my eye. We always had them over mashed potatoes as well lol. Must be a midwest thing! Have a great weekend!
It must've been a midwest/GenX thing! I don't know anyone who makes C&N now. My mom also made cabbage rolls a few times a year, that was another of my favorites. We attach so many memories to those childhood foods, don't we? Thank you Tamara, I hope you enjoy your weekend!
It's so sad to see people lose their freedoms but it's an honor to help those who've helped us once the roles reverse.
Poetry should move us, and I believe your intentions were duly recognized.
I hope you do go home soon!
And there, I lost it.
I can remember my grandmother baking for my arrival, with her great-grandchildren in tow. I tear up now, thinking how much trouble she went, just for me. Good food was love for her, She showed it in many ways, but, nourishing our souls will never be forgotten.
@tipu curate
Hi Denise! I have a trip planned soon but haven't quite pinned the exact dates down yet.
What a great memory of your grandmother! Cooking for loved ones used to be so much more prevalent. I think those who lived through the Depression showed their love through food more than later generations who've lived in relative abundance in comparison. I had a great aunt in Detroit who would make the best pastries for us when we'd visit.
My Grandmother... My mother...My sisters, three. We cook for people. It felt normal growing up and my kids still bring their friends over for dinner. I still cook like my mom and her mom before her.
Because to me, love is normal. :)
Upvoted 👌 (Mana: 55/75) Liquid rewards.
I can sum up ur poem in a few lines, so hear this out...
The love of a mother,
Cannot be accounted for,
By any measurement tape...
Drops in the ocean,
Cannot be compared
With the waves
That follow.
Crashing around you
Above you
Below you.
Good Day
I can visualize 3 generations of Matriarchs in your poem.
My Great-Grandmother, wearing her omni-purpose apron, kneading bread dough in the morning so that we'd have fresh bread for dinner. Never store bought.
My GrandMother, with a cup of tea nearby would be whisking a bowl of mayonnaise. Never store bought.
My Mother, with a cup of coffee nearby, adding a little bit of beet juice to a bowl of pasta salad. It added a little acidity and also made the pasta salad pink.
What amazing memories! I never met either of my grandmothers but great aunts and an elderly neighbor filled the void. I bet that homemade food was heavenly. It's almost as though the love gets transferred into the food.
My Great Grandmother lived alone at her own house until she was 99. Completely independent and healthy. Then she broke her hip and within a week she was gone. I still think that's exactly how she wanted to go.
You made me cry with this poem, Eric!!! I imagined my mother preparing the food, me, little girl, watching her kneading, spreading, chopping. Before my eyes my mother was making magic. I would be licking my lips with pleasure at everything she made and she would smile as she watched me eat all the food. Now I am the one who cooks for her....
Time is passing and I really want it to stop, not to keep moving so fast. My father died and I don't want to think if I would miss my mother.... Parents should be eternal. The only consolation we have is that in life, we all show them the love we have for them and that our gratitude is infinite. Accompany our parents, even if it is in the distance and treasure many memories.
Thank you, thank you very much for those words. Hugs, my friend
Oh no! I'm sorry it made you cry. It seems like we had similar childhoods. As I was writing this it's almost as though I was transported back to 1975 to the house I grew up in on 586 Elizabeth Ave in Columbus, OH. I'm actually planning a trip back home and asked my mom if she'd make the dish for me, this is what inspired the poem.
Time is passing way too quickly. It's hard being 800 miles away from her and only seeing her a few times a year (although I'm grateful I get to do that). I see so many changes between visits. We always try to "make up for lost time" and I think that makes the time go even faster. Nevertheless, we try to make the most of it with each visit.
You're welcome, Nancy! I hope you're enjoying your weekend!
What great memories. Mine would be of making cookies with my mom. Usually when we had chicken. Noodle soup as kids it was from a can.
Did your mom have a Betty Crocker cookbook? That was a staple of the time. My mom would bring that out around the Holidays and bake a few different cookies out of it. We always had Campbells soup too. This chicken and noodles dish was more of a stew than a soup though.
Yes, my mom had that cookbook. I think my sister has it now.
That thing must've sold 100 million copies in the 60's and 70's.
Making something from dough for visitors was traditional, perhaps still is, in my country.
Nice! Is it sweet or savory?
Just one of them;
Source
Yum!
Awesome poem as always with the touching words involve and thanks for sharing.
Thank you!
I felt the longing and the hope and the sense of loss all at once. Beautiful and sublime filled with nostalgia of something that was once but no more. Hoping that there's a chance that it might come back. Beyond beautiful Eric. I was transported with these lines.
I'm glad you enjoyed it, thank you very much!
A touching and sad poem, it is a pity that time has no power for us.
Memories are bittersweet, aren't they? They remind us of those great moments but they also remind us of how much things have changed.
When a person remembers his childhood, he remembers the same things, how parents are, they fulfill all the wishes of their children and expertly make things of their children's choice on time. During your childhood, you yourself have seen that even if she was worried and didn't have things, she would fulfill all the needs of her children by taking permission from somewhere. All wishes were fulfilled. We were very fond of eating potato chips as kids and used to eat them every day. Great peom. Thanks for sharing.
That is definitely true. I was grateful that, even though we didn't have much materially, my brother and I were raised in a kind of a bubble, my parents shielded us from their day-to-day worries. As an adult I've learned how sometimes they didn't have enough money for food or didn't know where they would get the money for the mortgage payment yet I don't remember any of that struggle. Thanks @djbravo!
Yeah you are right man. Being a parent is not so easy, one has to make many sacrifices. Most welcome dear.
Your poetry really touched my heart Eric. This really reminds me of my mother who passed away. At this time I really miss the foods that she made which I will not find anywhere else in the world. Have a nice day, Eric.
I'm so glad you connected with it, Eliana! I'm very sorry about your mom's passing. Can you make any of the dishes that she made for you? I hope you enjoy your weekend!
Beautiful poem full of nostalgia, I can imagine every word and feel it as if it were lived, I loved it.
Thank you! I'm thankful that I can remember those childhood moments so clearly, almost a half a century later. It doesn't seem possible that all that time passed.
To be honest now is when I most understand the word time flies away a couple of years ago I was a little girl with no worries just playing with my doll to see that many of my loved ones are no longer and I am already a woman is when I value time more I send you my best wishes your poem took me to remember beautiful moments
Muchas gracias por compartir tu escrito, no habia escuchado Seals & Crofts, hoy descubrí una nueva banda para escuchar!
¡De nada! Seals & Croft siempre estaban en la radio cuando yo era un niño aquí en Estados Unidos. Esta canción en particular.
La música era tan despreocupada en ese entonces.
#hive #posh
I still struggle to knead the dough perfectly. In the end, I have to call my mother for the help.
It's not easy. It took me years to perfect baking.
Great work mate. Love it, tnks for sharing this work wit us.
Thanks for reading!
You're welcome...
Poetry which does not move you or carries no emotion is no poetry at all.