Sharon's Muse.... Let's chat over coffee while I ponder some things
|
Sharon's Muse.... Let's chat over coffee while I ponder some things |
About Me
Name::Sharon Cullars
From::United States
Exploring the inner landscape of me...
We Want Our Kids Back, Too 
Conseco at Racialicious is asking that we participate in viral blogging to find our children. Please
visit photobucket.com/ourmissingkids where you’ll find fresh ads to grab and spread around and re-post. The posters are updated frequently. Please visit BlackandMissing.blogspot.com.
My Meez Recent Entries Archives Recent Comments Personal Interesting Sites Featured Tunes My Artwork My Merchandise Freelance Projects
blog posts, articles, web content, resumes, copywriting, proofreading
Read my business guides at Work.com
Read my profile on Air Station Savannah's pivotal Katrina rescues
Read my article on the Fair Trade system
AGAIN
included on reading list for
READ
EXCERPT
Need Flashplayer to view. Give time to load.
TOOL & BAD BOYS Ebooks Valentine Stories Erotic Stories Credits |
Thursday, December 25, 2008  (my mother and grandmother preparing Christmas dinner, circa late 70s) Poem - "Christmas Dinner" I wrote the following poem in 1997 in reminisce of bygone Christmases. The women stand together, heads bowed over bowls of pungent celery and onions, while the older says to the younger, "Hand me that," and my mother complies, handing Grandma the pepper. The smell of roasting turkey is good and warm to this child, and the makings of dressing, potato salad, greens, corn bread and other things teases and tantalizes. The tradition of women is going on all around me, and I am loathe to interfere. I would rather just sit and watch the kitchen festivity, as important to me as the birth of our Saviour. Three generations together in this kitchen, this haven, this escape, as hands fly fast to baste and chop, and cut and stir, a dash of this, a sprinkle of that.... recipes are not written down but absorbed by osmosis. The sweet thickness of eggnog, and the powdery sugar of homemade teacakes comprise my memories. As does two mismatched voices lifted in carols, a day where sadness is left outside the door, and Santa is no longer needed. Labels: Christmas
|
| Layout Design by Hajira | Thanks to:Getty Images • Blogspot • Blogskins • |
