03-30-2015, 12:21 PM
I don't want to edit the life out of this before hearing some of your thoughts. Call it respect. 
Sundays
In a way I lost them both last year;
one to ashes, the other to dissolve
her last sugars into safe, appropriate cups of tea.
What's hardest for me is the smell of bacon.
It ghosts me back
to Sunday mornings in '83
and Coronation Street roostering
it's theme song on colour TV.
Someone would shout, "Come in,
sit down, shut up, it's on",
and we'd come in,
sit down
and yap 'til it was done.
I stay away from bacon now,
but one of these Sundays
"I'll fry up a storm"
(as Dad would say),
and maybe even take some to Mom,
in hopes the smell still haunts her.
Sundays
In a way I lost them both last year;
one to ashes, the other to dissolve
her last sugars into safe, appropriate cups of tea.
What's hardest for me is the smell of bacon.
It ghosts me back
to Sunday mornings in '83
and Coronation Street roostering
it's theme song on colour TV.
Someone would shout, "Come in,
sit down, shut up, it's on",
and we'd come in,
sit down
and yap 'til it was done.
I stay away from bacon now,
but one of these Sundays
"I'll fry up a storm"
(as Dad would say),
and maybe even take some to Mom,
in hopes the smell still haunts her.