early to make double sure
my room is spotless—fresh
sheets and pillowcase; no
dirty clothes in the hamper;
trash emptied; furniture
dusted; carpet vacuumed—
before I even think about
heading out the door to school.
This morning is in perfect order.
We’ll see what evening brings.
AUNT CORA
Doesn’t seem to notice
the scent of change in the air.
She sings as she busies herself
in the kitchen, making breakfast.
Usually we all just settle for cereal,
but today I smell a hot griddle.
Pancakes? Something is definitely
going on. The domestic goddess
thing so isn’t her. “Morning.”
Her back is to me, and she jumps
a little before turning, red-faced.
You scared me half to death!
But she’s laughing, and I can’t
help but laugh too. “Kind of
an overstatement, don’t you think?
And what’s up with the pancakes?
Going Rachael Ray on us, or what?”
I watch her ladle thick, lumpy batter.
Rachael Ray? Ha-ha. Don’t think