It You Love Me, You’ll Come To My House

It’s okay tonight.

I’ll concede to another store bought roll,

Pick off the fuzzy green spots,

And won’t ask many questions-

Grandma’s agenda on everyone

Is usually already prepared.

Our Thanksgiving meal for most

Is now a phone call and a card

But she still cooks on- just in case

One of us might stop on by.

 

It isn’t like when we were kids.

It meant sneaking crusty fresh rolls

Dipping them in the bubbling sauce

Before she got back,

Her warm dishtowel whipped us

For the tomato drool on our mute smiles

Gave us away.

 

It meant

Homemade, huge spicy meatballs, and fiery hot sausage

One for each of us was carefully counted out.

Juicy turkey in spinach soup with freshly made croutons

Soft chewy egg colored croutons-

And cold cuts, with thick rugged rolls

We’d almost have to help each other pull them out of our mouths.

What a dance it was!

A fast football game in the mini front lawn

Nap then dessert and it would soon be over.

 

But tonight she was too quiet.

Her sunflower lampshade shone on

The yellowed plastic tablecloth

As her waxen hands grabbed

The scratched silver serving spoon

In soft tarantulan speed.

I said, “Have you heard from cousin Joey, Grandma?”

 

In a blink,

She said it in Italian,

First to the empty spot on her plate

And then again in my eyes in English-

“If you love me, you’ll come to my house Tony.”

“If you love me, you’ll come to my house.”

 

Copyright2010 A.J. DiAngelis

About Tony DiAngelis

I am a writer and educator who wants to share my creativity in a global medium. Please savor the pieces you enjoy, voice your thoughts, and share this work with others in hopes that they may find inspiration to reconnect with their creative selves.
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2 Responses to It You Love Me, You’ll Come To My House

  1. Peggy Medina says:

    Love this poem!

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