Susanne Coalson Donoghue - Baking

I used to love to watch my mother's
hands, small and slender,
chopping, folding, rolling dough,
stirring batter. Kitchens,
I believe, were meant to be shared
and cannot have too many cooks
where love is.

My granddaughter has inherited her love
of flour and sugar, eggs and butter,
and today we are baking a lemon-frosted
strawberry cake topped with coconut and toffee.
Our imaginations are loose and the kitchen
echoes with our laughter, as we decide
to fold in the two cups of whipping cream
left from last night's supper. That means
watching it more carefully so it doesn't burn,
but I use the extra time to pass on to her
my mother's wisdom: if you wash the dishes
as you go along, you don't have a mountain of them
afterward. I've successfully filled her cup
with the ingredients passed down to me.

Simple wisdom, simple work, simple pleasure,
uncomplicated
except for the calories and glycemic load.
I look at this beautiful young woman
shedding love around her like an aura
and I am filled with satisfaction.

(February 21,2011)

Susanne Coalson Donoghue

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