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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.


Sharon Cullars Coffee Talk at 12/25/2008 12:15:00 AM Permanent Link     | | Home


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