Kitchen Love

At seventy-five, my grandma is still a one fine trouper. Today I caught her scrubbing and arranging in my ma’s kitchen. When I offered help, she testily refused and said she could manage (such a “grandmother” thing to do). I just stood in the kitchen, admiring her labor. The space was spick and span. Every single jar, bottle, plate and shaker was in order. And we all had grandma to thank for, as she did all that out of love (and perhaps, out of a little ennui too).

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