My Grandma's Magic

Up before dawn, on a cold, Minnesota morning in the dimly lit room, apron tied at her ample waist, she begins her alchemy of love.

Combining scentless ingredients into a large bowl, with love she kneads and kneads her spell.

While I, cozy asleep under the familiar embroidered quilt, dreaming the dreams of a safe, innocent child, am slowly and gently roused by the smell of wonderous bread baking.

Warm, brown, crusty loaves with infinite little holes to catch the sweet, salty butter.

Sleepy-eyed, I stumble into the kitchen following the delicious smell of scentless ingredients knowing the treasure that awaits.

There is Grandma holding out her plate of magic to me with that knowing smile on her face.

Judi Opager September 23, 2020