Radish

When’s the last time someone told you everything will be alright?  Or maybe it wasn’t so much what she said but how she made you feel so very cared for at her kitchen table.  How she set before you a plate of crusty bread buttered and dressed with slices of blushing radishes.  The little salt she sprinkled sparkled in the small afternoon light, encouraged the crisp coins of white to glisten.  With every bite the wrinkles in your mind began to smooth.  How you ate eagerly, the two of you framed by the kitchen window.  And you felt warm with gratitude, despite Spring’s snow frosting the lawn.   You realized only later, after you had returned home, she never asked if you were hungry.

 

 

 

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