Blended

A poem and recipe to celebrate Grandma Thorsen who died one week shy of 103

A family tree is an orchard, 
each generation complicates connections,
decades of divorce, division, pain 
perplexed parents, mysterious dramas draped 
in shrouds of stigma and struggle. Easy to lose 
contact, remarry, move on. It takes effort 
to overcome grief, despair, genetics etched, memories 
suppressed, buried pain.

Those who say blood is thicker than water don’t know
Grandma Thorsen, whose intent  
keeps broken bonds blended. 
She overcomes bad tastes 
in your mouth; she takes sour, makes it sweet. 

Nothing like a Grandma Thorsen 
Breakfast – makes your mouth water. 
No need for special occasions, 
her apron-wrapped heart is how she is. 
This master of the kitchen awakens,
creates the best, inspires 
awe from scratch.

Though eyes fade and vision goes,
she has no need to read 
this recipe, it’s etched; 
her sharp mind organizes, measures, encourages 
ingredients stirred, smooth and lumpy brought together 
by her hand; the worn, 
wooden spoon mixes in the dented bowl 
just lo…