GrandMuMMing Monday

Slow Recipes                                                                         By Joellen Heckler

Dragging your little chair across the floor

to be my “help,” you stand

tiptoed upon it much too close

for me to stir ingredients,

open drawers, or think.

The apron tied beneath your chin

reaches to your knees.

You wait

with silken hair and skin

like milkweed drifting from the pod,

wait

for me to measure so that

you can proudly pour.

We blend important things

in flowered bowls

using the long hand of a yellow clock

this year

when you are four.

The poem was published in the Ladies Home Journal, November 1978.  I carefully cut and lovingly taped it to the inside of my red and white Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook.  Through all of these years it has caught my gaze when I opened this treasured friend.