Reunion
karen kwasny
Reunion
From the cold oven, I pull
two bloated thighs of bread dough
Air-filled and fat, ready for rolling.
The fleshy, unbaked loaves
land with a thud on the corian counter.
My grandmother recites:
Two sticks of melted oleo,
Two cups brown sugar,
Two tablespoons milk,
One teaspoon cinnamon.
One large box vanilla pudding mix
“The cooking kind” she notes.
“Just remember, never instant.”
Mix by hand.
Pour into a 9 X 12 glass baking dish.
A thick caramel ribbon cascades over the edge of the bowl
And drops like a waterfall into the dish,
pushing its weight against itself
out to the edges.
My grandmother sinks my hands into the sticky
white skin of the bread dough and we pinch pieces off the edges,
placing them side by side in the thick syrup lining the dish.
Rocks in a stream bed, I think.
Pebbles, shells, eggs.
One by one until the loaves are gone,
the baking dish full.
I wipe my hands on my grandmother’s yellow apron,
pull the edges to wipe the wet from my face,
feel the warmth of the oven fill the kitchen.
Press 25 minutes and stand back.
My grandmother pats my shoulder, says,
“Now all we can do is wait.”
We turn in unison, clean the bowls, wipe the counter,
hang the apron from the hook behind the laundry room door.
The recipe book sits unopened on the counter.
I hug it to me before placing it back in the cupboard,
Survey the empty kitchen while I lick the spoon,
watch the sugary syrup shine and bubble,
the golden-brown pillows of dough rise and rise and rise.
Karen Kwasny
Karen Beardslee Kwasny is an educator, poet, and essayist. She received her B.A. from Shippensburg University, her M.A. from East Carolina University, and her Ph.D. from Temple University. She taught college English and multicultural literature for over twenty years before becoming a full-time writer. Her work has appeared in Rebus, The Sandhill Review, The Rebel, the Princess Anne Independent News, and The Virginian-Pilot. When she’s not writing, she’s walking her dog, watching the sky, or binging on pizza, chocolate, podcasts, or some good streaming television.
“My poetry speaks to how family shapes our sense of self and how our memory of family can distort or clarify. A deep appreciation for the natural world is reflected in my writing. And much of what I write explores how our relationship with nature shapes our worldview. My studies, scholarly work, and current concerns are reflected in my writing – the influence of family, value of legacy, fragility of the environment, and joy and pain of the aging process. Sex and gender are frequent features of my attention these days and also underpin my work.”