what happened to the long
rectangular
pan that my mother cooked
on for decades.
it stretched out across
two burners.
big enough to cook for
seven children
and herself.
it should be hung in a
museum, somewhere.
i think of all the pancakes,
the bacon,
the pork chops,
the chicken that was cooked
on that pan.
unbreakable, sturdy.
reliable.
like her.
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