The oven opens his mouth like a dragon
Breathing out dancing flames.
I precisely slice the apples,
Round perfect bright as rubies apples
Like the poisoned one the evil witch gives to Snow White.
I feel the texture of the porous pulp
Wetting my hands with its sour juice.
I add cinnamon and sugar
As if they are the magic ingredients for my potion.
Apple and cinnamon fit together in a perfect way,
And while I’m stirring them in the burning pot
The smell spreads all over the kitchen
Reaching my dog’s damp nose
Who raises his head still confused by his dreams,
Stretching in his tartan basket.

The Sunday sun sweetly shines,
Its dusty asymmetric rays
Kissing and passing my kitchen window.
And a cloud is nowhere to be found in the sky.

I gently pour the buttery crumbs,
Spreading them with a splintered wooden spoon
As if I’m caressing my dog’s silky fur.
The crumbs are hiding the caramelized apples.

Today my mum is really upset.
She found out my grandma has breast cancer.
I’m making this dessert only for her.
To see a smile on her face
When she will smell it coming inside the house
And my dog will give her a hearty welcome,
Frantically moving his tail.
She has to know we’ll get over this.
Together.
Fighting with sugar and cinnamon.

This is my happiness potion.