Remember when we would make juice
During the hot summer months
Transforming our mother’s little kitchen
Into our playground for the afternoon
We would take turns
Adding pieces of vine ripened tomatoes
One by one into the blender
With spoonfuls of pure cane sugar
Not realizing the inherent sweetness
Already part of the fruit
Still, we drank the syrupy concoction
Like ants…

Ah, we were only children back then

But, just the other day
I came across a poem
Written in a little bound book
Its seams frayed with obvious use
And the dulling pages folded and smudged
From the dirty thumbprints of the universe
And the word, tomato, caught my eye
Highlighted in fluorescent green
Sweetheart, I felt a lump in my throat
The size of a big green tomato
For all I could think of was seeing you again
In our mother’s kitchen
Being together like we used to
Grabbing a carrot and some leafy kale
Maybe an apple and a mashed banana
A little bit of orange juice
Pulsing over crushed ice, until
Everything was naturally delicious again

What do you think of this post?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s