Blue Apron

I taught her to how to make noodles
she was too short to see over the counter
standing on stepstool
wearing a blue apron with multi-colored polka dots
she learned how to mix, knead, roll, and cut
i tried to show her a quick and easy away
with a pizza cutter slicing the dough expediently
she preferred to be meticulous
slow cuts with a knife
So young to be so determined
*
I taught her how to make chocolate treats
It became an immediate tradition
Marshmallows, pretzels, ginger snaps
we'd melt a pot of chocolate and dip, dip, dip away
a little taller now, still blue-apron clad
she'd work on the task diligently
Quick to offer her opinions
"Dad, we have to do it this way"
She loved the process and artistry
*
I taught her how to make many things
the kitchen a place of love and safety
over the years, our best and deepest discussions held
crafting some new culinary concoction
Greek Lemon soup-which she named Snot Soup
Biscuits-earned the name hockey pucks
Sahlab-denoted as Hippo Soup
Foods we still talk about today
years gone by but things remembered
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She's been gone a few years now
Her absence has taught me pain
I miss the days of kitchen banter
the chances to offer her advice on more than cooking
i miss her presence among measuring cups
spices, utensils, pots and pans
when she was here, the racket was joyful music
gone, a melancholy melody
*
She called the other day
"Dad, we need to make something for Christmas
I'll be in on Saturday"
Exuberantly, I pulled out the recipe box
What should we make this year
A new one to her, Papaw's Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies
We could spend the day talking about him
She was so little when he passed away
-you'll have to excuse me now
I have to go to the store
A few things i need to pick up
Melting chocolates, marshmallows...