She’d pull the dining room chair up to the counter, when all our plates were edged with pears and the cutlery had chunky blue handles, easy for my little fingers to grip. Those chairs made us, my sister and I, part of her team, her crew of little helpers, bakers, packer-away-ers. Back when our kitchen was mostly hers and I told time by the sight of her car from my bedroom window, her handbag hitting the counter, the activity we were up to. 9am baking, 11am coffee, 1pm lunch, 4pm tea. She was structure and normality. She was love and she was comfort.
Courgettes are sprouting,
I think that you grew them once,
leaves green and tender.
Good evening everyone. Tonight’s post is just a quick haibun for the dVerse Poets Prompt: everyday. When I was child, everyday for me was my Great Grandmother Ba. Some of you will recognise that I’ve written about her before. Make sure to click the logo above and go and check out all the other wonderful writers taking part in tonight’s prompt!