I’m remembering again
the day my dad drove me
to the house of his friend
whose wife had just died
of cancer and I was ten
a young ten but I believed
in brownies and their power
to heal grief when baked
for this new widower
and his daughter and son.
I’m watching again as I walk
up the steps to the ranch house
the widower opens the door
and I say I made you guys
brownies then pass the plate.
I’m memorizing the height of him
in that moment his stooping down
to hold the square-stacked dish
his lack of words, intake of breath
and I’m already down the steps
and close to our blue Ford Taurus
my father looking down at the wheel
ashamed?
The moment after the K turn
and heading in the direction
of home again and the doubt
the disapproval of that urge
to bake to make to bring to give—
My body remembers that more
than the goodness the giving
the gesture which is what is
to be remembered that in that
moment I know now
I did what was right.
Written beside “Balance” by Dorianne Laux
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