Grandma Hand's

A poem to my grandmother

Ingredients: 

3 eggs beaten like hands to babies bottom firm together as you mix in the past the present these eggs binding the young and old

2 Cup of sugar 

A single cup of oil that anointed this bloodline Grandma, these praying hands that mend. Callused with love, gentleness and kindness. The veins in your hands are maps of stories etched in flesh and blood to remind us of the worthiness of your glory. Grandmother, your testament runs blood deep 

3 Cups of grated zucchini 

3 cups of flour but not before we give you yours. Grandmother- you are this family’s sacred garden we water you

Extract 2 tsp of vanilla from her fingers carrying the depth of stories steeped with time. Fused with the ancestral prayers of generations before mine this scents just as rich as your hand 

1 tsp of baking powder as your soft frangible skin marks of wisdom. Leading leg as our leading lady- you raised us from babies. With these hands Grandmother you mend more than recipes- but the rest of me. I consider things I take from you the best me

1 tsp of baking soda 

1 tsp of salt

Add 1 tsp ground cinnamon from the sacred ground of grandmother's cabinet in habits are jars of wisdom and herbs preserved for healing. Drawn from roots too deep too see- a legacy that flows through me

Steps:

1. Preheat the oven to 350.

2. Mix in all the ingredients with hands that held stories in every fold, warmth spun from tales of love retold to my grandmother resourceful like the Library of Congress- you are everything I ought to be.

3.  Grease pan with flour like fingers dancing softly across braided scalps.

4. Gently pour mixture into a Bundt pan like you have gently poured into us stories from when mama was young with these hands grandmother you hold vessels of patience, draw from life’s soil the things that nourish and heal.

5. Bake for 1 hour. Baking together timeless threads of whispered prayers and silent vows. Grandmother your silence and patience taught me that the pot of gold at the end of every rainbow ain't always what you want but God delivering what you need.

6. Her zucchini bread is poetry in dough. It rises with wisdom and love . Her wisdom, a light that forever will last. Baked within this family's history.

Exhale and feast for at the table is where this bread and our ancestors meet