365: a sudden remembrance

A bowl of tomatoes – nothing extraordinary about that. Except that it’s her bowl.  And momentarily I’m taken back to the modest brick house in the next town where he coaxed plump better boys from the earth to her table and she filled the bowl with fruit salad and memories year upon year. And if I lean into the memory just a bit, I can smell the bacon frying and hear the mixer whirring and the pendulum on the handmade clock counting the time as we grew…taste the crumbling top of her pound cake and smell the sweetness of the wood shop. And today I miss them and feel their presence, all in a rush.