With the ease of many decades,
She instructs me to keep her ornaments and cookie cutters
After she has no more use for them.
Split them with your brother, she clarifies.
Looking straight ahead, I silently
Refuse to even nod in agreement with this informal will.
Sharing nearly three decades of
Flour dusted pans and hands intermingled,
Tiny fresh fingerprints poking holes in dough,
All the while, her soft wrinkled hands smooth out
Triangle trees, lumpy snowmen, and intricate snowflakes.
Working together,
We shape, cut, bake, adorn, and
Sneak the occasional bite of raw dough.
Her ears taking in our excitement and worry.
In an even tone, and
With a faith that can move mountains,
She smoothes out the wrinkled parts of life
That I don’t yet understand.