in the key of B major – 60 Jubilee East, the kitchen‏

by richibi


                                           Grandma’s Kitchen
                                                   Jacek Yerka
coming down the staircase to the main 
living areas, a wall on the left, a railing 
on the right, after the ladders we’d 
scramble up to our beds on while my 
father was still building had been 
removed, led to the kitchen
had the staircase wall continued, it 
would’ve divided that larger, brighter 
space from the smaller living room, 
where we’d curl up in our pyjamas, 
listen to music, watch television, in 
grainy black and white then, until
the scheduling day had ended with
test pattern, then just snow
but at the kitchen table, and from 
very early on, discussions took 
place about everything, my dad at 
the head of the table, with his back 
to the kitchen cupboards, my mom 
at the opposite end surveying the 
counter, my sister up against 
the window, while I looked on
my grandmother would often 
stand by the cupboards chewing 
on a piece of something or other 
she’d just served as she made 
sure our places were all, and ever, 
in order, with more sauce, more 
potatoes, more lemon pie or 
chocolate cake, if we desired, 
before she left to go the bingo 
what time is it, my father’d ask my 
sister, the clock was above the sink, 
whereupon she would become rattled, 
disoriented, unable to even see the 
clock, never mind the numbers there
swimming, would never get it, 
therefore, right, to my dismay, to her
greater distress
just like my mom, I found later,  
whenever I ask too pressing a question, 
whereupon I presume I must have, 
must have inherited, the temperament 
of my dad, in my, not necessarily 
there are advantages to being held 
to account, for both the held and 
the holder, though the quality of
mercy must always, and invariably, 
be served
my dad had been in the war, believed
in discipline, as it was the ethos of
the time, father knew best, father
ran a tight ship, an unflagging one,
my father applied himself to being
a valiant example of such, and was 
my mom, as was her duty then
followed in my dad’s determined 
footsteps, while my grandmother 
looked on, wise with her years
I want to be as wise as my 
grandmother, I remember telling 
myself when I was young, that 
was my greatest wish
on the back wall of the kitchen, the
stove from mid wall looked onto 
the fridge, while the fridge looked 
back on everything, I remember 
when we first got the refrigerator 
my mother cried, one would buy 
things on instalment then, only get 
it once it was paid, long before credit
I remember her burning the popcorn
at the stove, flying out the back door
with the popcorn grid all in flames,
long before microwaves