Thursday November 15, 2018
Old Patterns Fresh Beauty
Muffins on the counter, cooling. Apple and oatmeal, cinnamon. You made them to soothe yourself. It’s the measuring and the stirring the soothes, not the eating. Not these days. You’ll probably give them away, freeze a few for when your nephew is in town. He likes “muvvins”. The house smells like comfort and sweetness, too. When your phone rings the atmosphere is interrupted. You don’t want to answer. You don’t want your voice to crack. “Don’t hide,” you whisper, and you go to the ringing.