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
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