She quickly turned the sizzling pork in the pan,
And remembered a time or two when the pop of the grease,
Was faster than her Hands.
Well now, She muttered, thats good for a spell.
And down she sat in her overstuffed chair,
Next to the table with her sewing box on top.
She had buttons to sew back on and a rip or two to mend.
And as the pork sizzled and simmered in the pan,
And filled the house with the smell of good cooking,
And as the TV glowed and filled the room with news,
She turned to her sewing, after turning on the lamp.
The room filled with a familiar golden glow of light,
And she flipped her thread holder open to match colors to cloth.
She did the same thing, almost every day, and never tired.
She never tired of the smell of her cooking or he r kitchen.
She never tired of the mundane things she did,
To keep her family fit and running smooth.
She never tired of breaking up the girls from fussing at each other,
And she never tired of her mans and sons masculine ways.
She never got tired of the things that grew all around the house,
And seemed to need her constant care and attention.
She never tired of coming home, to a house that needed painting,
Or the stack of bills that she thought would never get caught up.
She was not the happiest woman in the world, by any means.
But she sat there in her overstuffed chair,
Before the rest of her family came straggling home,
And her eyes wandered around the room and the view outside.
And she thought, I may not have the life of no fancy queen.
But I got to admit, I got not one regret about the life I got.
And about that time her man came banging in the door,
And planted a kiss on top of her head as he headed for h is shower.
And kids came stomping in soon after, fussing and aggravating
And she smiled inside of herself, from the comfort of her familiar life.
And she thought once more, Nope, I got no regrets about the life I got.
And then she went and finished getting the supper on.
Cuz it was dinnertime, and probably her favorite time of day,
Cuz her, and her family, would sit together and smile, and laugh and talk and share
and love each other...
About the Author:
Deborah Coss, has been writing since she was 8 years old, getting published off and on since 15, and finally realized her child hood dream of carrying press credentials when she worked for http://www.womanmotorist.com
She now publishes her own site, www.1kindthing.com She also creates some fine arts, and loves photographer, commneting that she is a social portraiture photographer. In art, she has a very constructionist attitude in art and loves making masks and other 3 dimen sional objects. In photographer, she loves the medium of black and white. A diverse writer, she has published several types of sites for several types of businesses.
On a personal side, she is a survivor of an extremly violent childhood and some serious trauma, including being crushed by a car at age 3 and half. Thus, her site http://www.1kindthing.com, tells of overcoming hardships, in addition to her many other styles of writing. She is a baby boomer, raised in Southern California.
Author:: Deborah Coss
Keywords:: Deborah Coss, sizzling pork in the pan, a time or two, pop of the grease, Hands, overstuffed chair,
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