March 2019 SOLC–Day 24
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
I finally got a chance to check out the food prompts on the poetry challenge I was supposedly participating in this month. I haven’t looked for days. Maybe a week. I could have found time to at least look, but that would have triggered a tsunami of guilt for not writing response poems, and I’ve been avoiding that.
At any rate, today Catherine Flynn posted a photo of blueberry pancakes. I immediately thought of long ago days making pancakes with my mom. I still remember the old double-sided electric griddle. I remember using the metal ladle to carefully scoop thick batter from the heavy mixing bowl, and the satisfying sizzle of the batter as it met the griddle’s hot surface. I remember my mom telling me to wait for the bubbles to rise through the batter and stay open before turning the pancakes. I remember holding the spatula. Poised. Waiting. Waiting. And I remember that I couldn’t wait. I’d flip the pancake and it would slop into a half-cooked and oddly shaped oval. Oops. Next time, I ‘d promise myself, I’d wait. I rarely did. Even now, I have a hard time with that.
I also remembered my delight when my mother or grandmother occasionally made us pancakes shaped like our initials. It struck me today that those pancakes contained a world of love.
Sometimes she shaped the pancakes
using batter to scribe our initials
onto the seasoned griddle
waiting patiently for the bubbles
to rise through the batter
and softly pop
taking care to flip each letter
browning the sides to golden perfection
slipping them onto our waiting plates
unspoken love letters
©Molly Hogan, 2019