ate
most of her meals standing
up
in the kitchen
while we
sat, served, and hungry.
go on,
she'd say,
still stirring a pot,
doing something
we couldn't see.
i'll be in shortly,
she'd say,
and then
finally, she'd come out
and ask us
how it was.
okay?
it's great mom, any more
bread,
anymore
gravy?
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