wisdom in the kitchen with mom

she is three in my memory

during a hard week away from home

but the only one of her life before…

that I know she was not abused

I can see her in my mind as clear as if

I were watching it happen

early morning

the last of the spices go in the basket

the elephant eared reminders of my father’s death

already planted

in the back of the pilot

and she consoles you

she reaches around your hip and pats you softly

there, there

so maternal for a baby, for a child

you don’t care

But I do.

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