This is a piece that was previously published in Humanity Magazine, check out the Be the Hum here, designed and published by the amazingly talented Kailey Sullivan.
I've never heard my grandmother sing
If I'm honest I'm not sure if she plays any instruments
And I don't know if she paints, writes poetry, or dreams in color.
But what I do know,
Is that stitched throughout the fabric of the bread she bakes-
There is a song.
When I was a child I used to sit and listen to her sing this song;
Faithfully kneading out the imperfections in the dough.
This song of hers seem to have far more rest notes than before.
There will come a day,
When the quiet humming of her hands at work will cease,
When the dough rising on the counter isn't there.
There will come a day when this song of hers must end.
But when that day comes, I will simply remember:
Sitting in her kitchen,
Smelling sourdough baking,
Waiting for her symphony to finish,
And her teaching me how to spell "diagnosis"
I will remember my grandmother's song.
With all of its silent love and patience,
I will remember my andmother's song.