Poetry
Comments 46

Thinking Of You

My Great-Grandmother did not turn grey in her old age, she went white instead. The photos of her in younger years are tinted sepia to the point where I’m not sure what colour her hair once was. I think it might have been the same brown as mine, but that’s just a guess. I’m sure my mother would remember if I asked her.

In my memories her hair is the same colour as icing sugar. The sort we sieved over golden mince pies straight from the oven in the kitchen, bronze mincemeat bubbling through the cracks. Though we only made them at Christmas in my head the sun is beating through the windows and the tress are heavy and green. Beneath my tiny feet the orange seat of the dining room chair creaks with each movement I make and there is flour beneath my finger-nails, packed tight beneath the tiny half moons. I know it is my job to decorate the pie crust before it goes in for baking. These stubby fingers will mash pastry rolls into smiles too thick to cook all the way through. When they break open after dinner, the dough is still white.

Spring brings daffodils

snowdrops, tulips and crocus.

They don’t stop growing.

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It’s Haibun Monday again at dVerse Poets Pub and tonight our prompt is ‘grey’. For some reason it reminded me immediately of a comment my Gran once made about my Great-Grandmother not going grey but going white instead while both her and my mum had grey streaks starting to appear.

This entry was posted in: Poetry

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Carol Forrester is a twenty-four year old writer trying to be a better one. Don’t ask her what her hobbies are because the list doesn’t get much beyond, reading, writing and talking about the same. She has a 2:1 BA degree in history from Bath Spa University and various poems and stories scattered across the net. Her flash fiction story ‘Glorious Silence’ was named as River Ram Press’ short story of the month for August 2014 and her short story ‘A Visit From The Fortune Teller’ has been showcased on the literary site Ink Pantry’s. Most recently, her poem ‘Sunsets’ was featured on Eyes Plus Words, and her personal blog Writing and Works hosts a mass of writing from across the last five years. She has been lucky enough to write guest posts for sites such as Inky Tavern and Song of The Forlorn and is always open to writing more and hosting guest bloggers here on Writing and Works. With hopes of publishing a novel in the next five years and perhaps a collection or two of smaller works, Carol Forrester is nothing if not ambitious. Her writing tries to cover every theme in human life and a lot of her work pulls inspiration from her own eccentric family in the rural wonders of Shropshire life.

46 Comments

    • I’m afraid a few are which is part of the reason I tend to write about my family so much I think. Trying to pin them to paper before they had time to disappear altogether.

    • If memory serves me I always had something under my fingernails as a child, be it soil or flour. Ba always made my sister and I was our hands before baking though so it was never the two at the same time. Though I could make an excellent mud pie when I set my mind to it.

  1. Oh, I enjoyed your memories, Carol, and your wonderful description of your great grandmother with icing sugar hair.

    • Thank you Kim. My mum said she could never work out how Ba managed to have both my sister and I baking with her in the kitchen when we were so little but I’m incredibly grateful for the memories I have from those times.

  2. That’s a lovely observation and the photo is so touching. Your (great?) grandmother has a face full of character and kindness. I feel I know her. In our house it was my youngest sister who made those deadly pastries—penguins hers were—and my dad was always forced to eat them.

  3. I loved this haibun so much. Your great grandmother with her white hair. That is how I shall think of my hair now – the color of confectioners sugar. So much love in this haibun and the details – the flour under your nails. My grandmother had me in the kitchen at a tender age as well and by the time I was six, I could make a caramel cake as well as she. These memories are so precious to us, aren’t they? thank you for this lovely haibun.

    • Thank you for the lovely comment. I can still remember bits of what she taught me and when I bake I try to follow her recipes. (Even if her use of lard horrifies my health-conscious other half).

      • LOL….lard used to the THE fat, that and suet. I still use lard to make my grandmother’s biscuits. It isn’t so bad, the lard, especially the pure white kind. We inderited quite a bit from from our great and grandmothers. We are blessed.

    • You have no idea how glad I am to see someone picking up on that. I was quite proud of the little link and the fact it hadn’t happened my accident like most of the bits people comment on when reading my poems.

  4. Pingback: Penguins – Jane Dougherty Writes

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