Latkes in Minneapolis

Latkes in Minneapolis March 26, 2018

Delayed by storms, I’m having latkes

in a hotel and you all come flooding

back to me. Grandma pressing them

with an old spatula on her Brooklyn

stove. Dad saying, “Ma, you’re making

enough for an army.” And Mom having

a cigarette in the corner, arms folded,

back against the wall.

 

In my sixty-sixth year, the smell of latkes

makes me feel you mother, a year after

your death. I miss what we never had.

 

You were always burning up, pressing

things on the stove. I still don’t know

why. But today, on a cloudy day in

Minneapolis, I wonder if, like some-

one trapped in a burning building,

you pushed me into the world

to save me from your fire.

 

A Question to Walk With: Describe a time when you felt the sudden presence of someone you love who is no longer here?

This excerpt is from a book in progress, Returning to Where I’ve Never Been.

 

*photo credit: Suludan Diliyaer

"After 2 years of once a week therapy, this too is where I stand💖"

Without Explanation
"The confederate soldiers were always considered US soldiers and are still considered to be US ..."

In the Aftermath of Charlottesville: Where ..."
"The 'we need a leader' mantra gave us what we have. It always had; it ..."

In the Aftermath of Charlottesville: Where ..."

Browse Our Archives

Follow Us!


TRENDING AT PATHEOS New Visions
What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment