My mother's kitchen essay

My mother's kitchen essay

My mom's kitchen isn't mine.

Her kitchen is a furious shading,

red, stewing like spaghetti sauce on the stove.

Everything is deliberately estimated,

exact.

There are no shades of dim,

just high contrast

the final product is flawlessness.

My kitchen is my grandma's kitchen

it's a mosaic

agreeable and breezy

somewhat obsolete, yet sheltered.

We don't utilize estimating mugs,

we include what feels right

sprinkles of shading twirl around

in the bowl

noticeable all around

on the dividers

we know these formulas by heart

final product isn't great

in any case, it's me

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