by Lisa Miller ( Lexington, KY)
For Ma—my great-grandmother
A five-year-old girl
schmaltz & gribenes, cholent, gefilte fish, chicken soup & matzah balls, tongue, chopped liver, latkes, stuffed cabbage, kishke, kasha, farfel, plátano frito, arroz con pollo, fricasé de pollo, ensalada Cubana—
The hands that smell like garlic, dill, parsley, parsnips, saffron—the kitchen—
soft, warmed, sheltering, applauding, soothing
comfort—
Always Home.
Lisa M. Miller is an inclusive mind-body health specialist. She facilitates therapeutic arts workshops that call in deep healing and synchronicity—a compass for meaning, intuition, and well-being. She’s an empty nester from Canada, living in Kentucky, married to her 1986 Jewish summer camp sweetheart. Her newest book, Woe & Awe, will be published by Accents (Spring 2024) Her podcast is called: The Women’s Well. Follow Lisa on Instagram: @LisaMillerBeautifulDay
Love all the food mentioned in this poem. I can smell and taste it!