Special

I discovered the oven mitt I now use in a cardboard box Mama left behind. She used it till she became unable to cook, shortly before she died. It was a sweet find, symbolic of the busy woman who left it. I had newer and prettier ones, but they did not inspire like this old one, with its faded yellow and pink flowers. Each time I gather ingredients for a cake a casserole or a pie, my dream is to make it blue-ribbon-worthy like the ones Mama once carefully removed from the oven with this special mitt while we family members waited, forks ready. I’m not there yet. Maybe some day . . . Date: April 29, 2020 Contest: Potholder Poetry Contest Sponsor: Craig Cornish