Grandma's Sundays

Grandma's Sundays Sunday's shadows still black she would step onto the cold bare floor untangle reweave the long gray braids A curved hole would spring up where she had laid warm throughout the night Dressed everyone else asleep she'd walk down the long dark hallway quietly feeling her way into the peach papered kitchen where dusted dough would rise salt pork sizzle gravy and oatmeal thicken She always served two jars of her favorite jellies selected from the pantry shelf The last to leave she walked to the church house down around the sloping clover patch steep stoney past the moist man-made spring where water moccasin mated coiled in the sun ........... and He shall rise up at the voice of the bird and all the daughters of music shall be brought low she listened her soul was fed Reverends she cooked for a different one each Sunday cured pork skinned potatoes green peas picked from her patch Us kids would crowd together on the back porch hungry waiting for the others to finish. —Betty McKnight ?9