PAD 25-1 meal

Meal Memories

In the sixties and seventies,

we seven sat around a table,

which took up most of our tiny kitchen.

Dad sat on the end, by the living room,

free to go relax when he was done eating.

On Thanksgiving, he always carved the turkey.

He’d joke that when he got up

in the middle of the night for a snack

and reach for a turkey leg

he’d get six forks in his hand.  

I sat to his left and was the one

who was close enough to the cupboards

and the door to the back porch.

I was the gopher. Go for this, go for that.

When a spoon was needed from the cupboard

or a jar of pickles from the basement,  

I was the one to get it.

Mom was too the left of me.

Looking back I think I had this position

so both Mom and Dad could help me

since I was the littlest until I was six,

when my little sister came along.

I always tilted my chair back.

Mom always warned me that I’d fall,

but I never did. Mom sat by the stove

so she could reach what was needed.

My little sister jammed between Mom

and my older sister because the table

was really only big enough for six.

She loved olives and put one on each finger.

My older sister was on the other end

 because she was the only lefty.

It kept her from bumping

the sisters on each side of her.

Then came my next sister up from me.

She liked to eat across an ear of corn

like a typewriter, dinging at the end.

My second oldest sister sat

between her and Dad.

We couldn’t say turkey skin

because it grossed her out.

No one would have guessed

she’d become a registered nurse.

We didn’t have napkins

but would pass around a towel

when someone would say, “Towel please.”

Looking back, I think that’s gross.

We talked around the table.

Dad would make his jokes.

He’d burp and Mom would say,

“What do you say Jim?”

trying to teach her five girls manners.

And he’d say, “Buuurrrrrp!”

Whether Thanksgiving or not

meals were fun and peaceful times.

We’d save our tiffs for later.