borrowing three eggs

there was a time
when your
mother would send
you across
the street to borrow
a cup of sugar,
or three eggs,
from the neighbor
that you knew only
as Lillian.
she was the go to place
for things
that we lacked.
go wash her car,
your mother would
say, cut her lawn,
shovel
her snow. it all
evened out
somehow as you
felt the warm
cup cake in your
mouth, icing on
your chin. happiness
in small crumbs
cascading down
your shirt.