Grandma Helen: The Kitchen

The Kitchen

“Welcome to my kitchen.
Go on, have a seat
Let’s laugh and let’s lie.
I’ll make something to eat.”

The pots and pans rattle,
The stove gets awful hot,
Smells of home cooking
Make you smile no matter what.

Secrets of good food,
In every cranny and nook,
Lessons learned here,
Go beyond how to cook.

Lessons about love,
And lessons of life.
How to treat a good husband.
How to be a good wife.

Advice on the menu,
Every day of the year,
Any hour, day or night,
You are family here.

The walls soak it up,
Every word, every tear,
Any sadness or secrets,
It’s all safe in here.

One thing never changes,
This we all know,
Red, orange, or green,
Jell-o! Jell-o! Jell-o!

If you showed up for breakfast,
If you showed up for lunch,
If you showed up for supper,
You surely ate too much.

You might’ve had bologna.
You might’ve had a steak.
You probably had some pie,
Or maybe some cake.

But every single bite,
And every single taste,
Was the best thing you’ll eat,
For the rest of your days.

The day has finally come,
The cooking is done.
There’s no more advice.
We’re all on our own.

If you’re looking for home,
It will always be here.
Her voice is gone,
But her spirit is near.

This kitchen is empty.
There’s no Jell-o today.
But our memories of Helen,
Will never fade away.

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