She dropped me off right before work
around seven-thirty in the morning
even though her office was at home
she couldn’t have me there while working
“bye mum,” I mouthed, on my tippie toes
little hands pressed against the window.

In the kitchen I watched Grammy bustle
she was always good at multitasking--
I guess she’d have to be, taking care of me--
she always baked for me, she loved to
I loved to too
even though I couldn’t keep my hands still
when she let me pour the flour.

Today I requested brownies,
like every other day,
but today was the day she gave in
to my chocolate addiction.
As always, she wouldn’t allow me any batter
“do you want to get salmonella?” she’d ask
no Grammy, but I licked the spoon anyway.

She turned off her radio during lunch
I hated that talk radio station
we ate at the table together
this is how families are supposed to eat, she’d say
I’d just nod and eat my grilled cheese.
I couldn’t admit that
we never ate as a family at home and
the table wasn’t use for anything
but folding laundry.