Writing prompt #18: Tell about a casserole

And again... here's the pledge...


Writing prompt #18: Tell about a casserole
1/9/2014

It all started with a casserole. One casserole was all it took to change my life forever. It was the way the cheer on top was cooked. Perfectly golden, bubbles undulating, just waiting to collapse in my mouth. My saliva glands warmed up. Two more people in front of me and it would be mine.

This was why I endured the silly ritual of breaking my once-a-month fast with all these late 20-something (and spattered early 30's) almost strangers. It was the food. Every other day of the month, I was content with microwave pizza, deli sandwiches from the cafe around the corner of my office and protein bars while navigating my way through morning traffic. But, once a month, I indulged my taste buds. Real, actual home-grown food. Multiple entrees, sides, and even desserts.

I reached for the utensil ladling the casserole and grasped. Air. What? I looked down. The serving utensil was gone. Someone else was helping themselves to my casserole. Was even scaring off the cheesy goodness. What nerve!

"Excuse me!" I said, following the hand holding the ladle up. A strong hand. Clean, clipped fingernails, long sleeve light blue button up shirt. As I reached his face, he stopped scooping and looked at me. His eyes smiles, a deep, blue smile. And, suddenly, I really wasn't all that hungry.

Death is a love song

A few months ago, I had a health scare. Fortunately, it turned out to not be what the doctors thought it was, but for a week or two, I thought my body was harboring an early expiration date. During this time, I also reminisced on the 10th anniversary of the premature death of my best friend, Trudy Barrett, who was killed in a car accident. One night, I couldn't sleep, and lines of a poem traversed my wakeful brain. So, I got out my ever-near laptop, and wrote this up. With very little editing, here it is:

Death is a love song

by Jennie Blaser 7/2015

Death is a love song,

plaintive and true.

Knees hitting floors 

in a constant beat

Hands stretched in service, 

a ballad so sweet.

arms ‘ere enfolding,

never alone, 

wishes and gratitude

harmony of hope

and memories,

and laughter,

and more of the same.

and what-ifs,

and miss-outs,

and tears without name.

Fears and regrets

tempt to devour.

Faith’s steady rhythm

displays its power.

Family, oh! Family,

the chorus swells.

Friends left with legacies,

stories to tell.

and worries,

and achings,

and notes strive to mend.

and last walks,

and last talks,

and see you agains.

Parts where no lyrics

could hope to convey

wills given over,

plans to obey.

With flowers that grow,

and are cut premature,

their comfort, their wisdom

adorning the earth.

Death is a love song,

plaintive and true.