Tag: mothers and daughters

Cream Puffs

What follows is a Carrot Ranch Literary Community 99-word blog challenge. The challenge this time is the idea of a deep wish.

My mom before she was my mom.

Frigid wind blowing off Lake Erie.

Door blows open; tinkles shut.

Warm smells of baking—golden loaves, croissants

Sweet scent of cookies, cakes, cream puffs.

Crisp crust flakes; filling fills senses

Warm vanilla pudding envelopes the tongue

Eyes widen; an ecstatic surprise.

Me, only three, shy in my Shirley

Temple curls, little fur hat and muff.

We left in winter, ran from open skies, silence.

I remember almost nothing, except

This bakery with a tinkling bell and cream puffs.

Later, we returned to Dad and stayed together,

But I long to buy Mom one more cream puff.

Out of Touch

“Ella Mae, what’s wrong?”

My mother had not heard from her own mother for ten years. Not one word. She didn’t know where Grandma Mae lived. Still in Chicago, she thought, but how would she know? She had no address and no ‘phone number. Grandma had moved and left no forwarding address, but the night my father suddenly died of a massive coronary, Grandma called. She didn’t wait for “hello,” didn’t waste time on small talk. Her first words went right to the heart of the devastation in our household.

“Ella Mae. What’s wrong?”