Greasing the Cookie Sheet

by Suzanne Camejo,
Gabriella's and Chantica's Mom

Greasing the cookie sheet,
First time in 18 months.
Each stain rife with memories
Where the butter or the chocolate
Baked on brown , now etched into the aluminum;
Like the most valuable print I could possess,
Never to be scrubbed away.
No saint or virgin weeping but
My own Pollock and de Kooning
Priceless now.

My reluctant martyr, fascinated by
Frida as a bleeding doe pierced by arrows;
Little did we imagine ...
As she rubbed the butter in;
I recall her long, slender fingers that
Grew from baby soft to graceful,
Stirring the batter with glee,
Licking the wire beaters each time.
Quiet in thought,
Always observing, watching,
Listening.
Every single movement
I made, what I said;
A lesson; each action an
Influence for life.
All my unique mind’s gifts,
Even my quirks,
Transferred patiently,
Downloaded
Day by day, year by year
She selected only the best of me,
Editing out the
Vices and vituperation;
A purer me to carry on,
A legacy all ours!

Talk about pride!
I bust open with It .

Now , instead, I hold a baking sheet,
Blotches of burnt sienna,
Umber baked on
In smooches like her
Lips, pooched and full,
Every stain a kiss!
Her chocolate chip cookies long gone
Eaten with zeal and pride
And the tin tucked away in the cupboard,
Un-wiped , perhaps just rinsed.
Ah ! the treasures she left
Despite my scolding,
“Gabriella! Remember to scrub the pan
after you use it!”
Are here for me .
Bending over
Studying the metal
Like a map to where
She might be,
Like a journal written
By her hand, left behind
"To lead you to me,
Mom," to help
Me find the way, the code,
A path
That has been blurred
By tears
Overgrown ;
Weed choked with
Sorrow;
Temporarily
Obscured by grief and
The thick mist of
Eternity.