Not to get in the way.
* * *
Gram would make me whatever I wanted for breakfast,
listing daily a half-dozen options.
But all I wanted was scrambled eggs.
Well into adulthood
I praised my grandmother’s scrambled eggs
as the very best
and was unable to duplicate them
until, by accident one time –
– and this was after I was married –
the margarine I used to grease the pan
burned a little.
I poured the egg mixture in anyway.
I tasted the eggs.
“That’s it!” I said. “Those are Grammie Bess’ eggs!”
It was not, I discovered,
that she was a stellar cook
the atmosphere around her table
that caused the memory to press wonderfully warm.
The magic ingredient, at last found.
Better a dry crust with peace and quiet
than a house full of feasting with strife.
– Proverbs 17:1 (NIV).