Bolognese In My Grandmother's Bowl

I tell you I'm going to make you

the best (vegan) bolognese you've ever had

but I fret as I cook

I'm not the best at making food

(for a lot of different reasons)

but I want to take care of you

the way you take care of me

I want to love you so gently

when the food is done

I go to the cupboard

and carefully select:

a cat plate for you

and my grandmother's bowl

for me

"I hope you like it"

you say "of course I'll like it;

it was made with your love"

we enjoy our vegan bolognese together

I watch you walk to the kitchen

silently hoping you'll get seconds

and I smile to myself as you do

I remember a time

not too terribly long ago

(although it feels like a lifetime ago)

when I was with a different colder girl

in a different colder town

In a much more brittle phase of life

she would get mad at me

for having seconds

("you've gained a lot of weight";

I'd dump my pasta in the trash)

it was an endless

losing battle

one I got used to

but always resented never the less

the pain has faded some

healing and recovery

are not always so linear for me

but you

my love

have held my hand

through it all

and I promise to always hold yours

we know a gentle kind of love

a love that encourages:

second helpings

being silly

growth

communication

soft, level, and baby voices

sometimes voices are loud

(from excitement;

never anger)

pursuing happiness

lots of kisses

and saying "I love you"

as many times as can fit

in one day

my dearest (almost) wife

you continue to give me

gentle love and support

and hold my hand

through every little step of the way

we visited my grandmother yesterday

(the one who gifted me her dishes)

she is different now

and it is hard

to see her struggling

but it is so nice

to be here with her

(you hold my hand)

she wears

a light purple dress

her hair in a braid

I tell her she looks pretty

We show her pictures

of our cats

our lizard

my sibling's dog

and of the vegan

bolognese I made

and ate out of the bowl

she gifted to me

you show her pictures of us

with your mom at the temple

I love that you share

a religion with her

(even if it's one

I don't partake in)

I went to church with her

when I was young

(I didn't like it much)

she would drive me to my

second high school

(that I liked)

we'd listen to music

from before my time

and soon enough

she took the passenger seat

and I drove

when I turned eighteen

I moved out to go to college

my grandmother gifted me dishes

that summer for my birthday

before I left

years later

she gifted me more dishes

her old ones

(including the bolognese bowl)

I took them

mostly out of nostalgia

a desire to keep a piece of her

in my home

I give her a kiss on the forehead

as we leave

it is hard to see loved ones

get older

it is hard to see them

lose memory

as time goes on

I recognize

the fragility of life

it unnerves me

but you are always there

my love

holding my hand

I will grow old with you

and love you gently all the way

I will make my (vegan) bolognese

for you

and serve it to our children

in my grandmother's bowls

and I hope you all

have a second helping

if you want one