Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Poertic Asides, Day Three - Kitchen Sink Time Machine

I stand at my kitchen sink,
pause as potato peel curls
into blue glass bowl. Onion
sautees in my grandma's
battered stew pot. Bay leaf,
browning beef, scent house
with hope, continuity, home.
Black Caleb, ancient now, seems
just a blink from frozen kitten
mewing on porch deck replaced.
Pine cone tumbles with thump from
towering tree I still see as six inch sapling
in a paper cup, gift from Christmas Tree
recycling center your eighth grade year.
Your daughter could be me or you,
shines in eighth grade now, same school.
Mystery is how generations fold into mix
of memory, family. Recipe repeats turn
dial on time machine, kitchen sink.

Victoria Hendricks
November 3, 2010

Victoria HendricksNovember 3, 2010


  1. What a wonderful place / space you have described. Wonderful to have this kind of kitchen sink generational connection

  2. What wonderful memories, sights, and sounds you wrote about in relation to the kitchen sink! A very special family poem.

  3. Thank you Mary and Diane for commenting so regularly on my blog - so many kind words.