we sat at grandma's kitchen table in that special time of the evening.
when the sun pools through the big window by the sink, illuminating millions of sunbeams, ideas and heart pulses
that have been waiting patiently all day
the jars of plum jam we just made rested on the golden yellow, lace tablecloth
the sun catches the jam through the glass and a deep red and purple neon glow
comes to life, like the drug store sign lit up at night
the sun spread out through the room and all over us mimics butter on fresh bread;
waiting for jam
"where did my name come from?" my daughter asked me.
"it came to life much like the plum jam,
which was just an idea,
just a heart pulse,
at 7:45 pm one night
as I drove aimlessly behind a dark red car on the highway
and it glimmered just right in that time of night
and I could taste the plums.
I had hours left to work, and years left to get back to grandmother's house.
But in that moment, the fruit was ripening
I worked tirelessly in the fields.
It came to life much like the writing I had on my dresser,
words I had written for your dad,
that came from a song,
about the year 1923...the year Grandma was born.
The back of the dresser, (which was Grandma's) faced me every night as I laid my head on my pillow and soaked it with tears
like the wet tea bags that hung from our baby blue mugs as we sat around the kitchen table.
My fingers traced those words on lonely nights, until the dresser was eventually turned around and backed up against a wall, after your dad had been spending the night a while.
your dad came and went from that home, but never once left my heart.
That was a lonely, confusing time of life. I couldn't read the words anymore, pressed up against the wall.
but at least I knew they were there, and your dad too.
It was hard work to find our way back to each other, in the ways we knew each other so long ago, so differently, back when we sat at this very table together.
Your name came to me one summer night,
just as you were born one summer night years later
when I was sitting at a picnic table amongst many family members.
My aunt casually told a story about her college roommate, and as she said her name it reverberated through my body and soul.
That's the moment I knew you, that's the moment we met, in a sense.
It reminded me of this very kitchen table, which resembles home, and heavenly peace.
Where we gather long before now, and long after now, just to be together and say hello.
That's when I knew your name.
And I waited patiently all day. "
We sat in silence for a moment until the back screen door swung open... he was home.
The plums were ripe
It was about time we had a feast.