When you made preserves our house
Didn’t seem so haunted
Our kitchen seemed bright and inviting
Instead of white and sterile
The window above the sink seemed so far away
And the curtain above that
Even farther
They were
Peach
Turquoise
Brown
And they made me dream of Indians in their teepees
Lonely desert nights
Though I had never been there
Arizona
New Mexico
California
Colorado
I had never been to those places
Those were your places
That was where you fell in love
Dad told me
And the pictures in the laundry room told me
I always went in there to look
For a part of you I had never met
But sometimes when you were making preserves
You were that girl again
With a crazy mass of curls that you’ve never tied back
Cuz you hate your ears
After two kids, you were still skinny
And taller than I’ll ever be
And in the heat of the kitchen
Tiny drops of sweat beaded on your forehead
You’d roll up your sleeves
Tie your shirt at the waist
And laugh and play in the steam where you boiled the mason jars
Pretending you were at Yellowstone again
Watching Old Faithful erupt from the earth
Right on cue
Holding Dad’s hand
Back before he grew his beard
I tried to count your freckles while you were reminiscing
You’ve got a lot
A lot a lot
I thought you were the prettiest woman I had ever seen
As you turned those scalding mason jars upside down
And told me to wait till I heard them pop
You made it sound like it would be magical
Elusive
Like if I didn’t pay attention
I would miss it
And I did.
Everytime.
Cuz I was in the laundry room looking at pictures
Of someone I didn’t know
When a symphony of popping would ensue
From the kitchen
And I’d come running
But I missed the mason jars rattling
And shaking as they played their tune
Raspberry preserves in c minor
I missed the butcher’s block by an inch as I slid on the linoleum
And nearly knocked over the coyote cookie jar
I missed my chalkboard easel
By the Grace of God
My earliest masterpieces remained intact
But I did not miss your face
Or the grin that lingered
When the popping ceased