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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #1075396 added August 17, 2024 at 1:24pm
Restrictions: None
August 17
Prompt: Food
Write a poem or a story about food that has significance to you.
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I'm not a picky eater; however, in old age, I'm more conscious of what I eat. So I don't eat out anymore, unless I have to. I cook my every meal myself and I like it that way. At least, I know what goes in it.
On the other hand, I didn't always know how to cook, until I met my mother-in-law, and may she rest in peace, she took her time with me and showed me the basics. My mother also didn't cook since we had other people doing the job, always, and those people, while I grew up, used to shoo me out of the kitchen, telling me I'd smell of food. Luckily again, much earlier, our Home-Ec teacher, Miss Crain, also had taught us the very basics, but my real cooking skills come from my mother-in-law.
One food that has significance to me are the mug-cakes I make in a mug in the microwave. I can do many different varieties of such cakes and they are probably much healthier than any store-bought cake since I make the batter out of scratch and use a lot of different fruits at the bottom of the mug. On top, I add a couple of teaspoons of batter. Sometimes, I add chocolate or cinnamon to the mix also. Since I have the batter already pre-made and stored in jars in the fridge, a mug-cake only takes one and a half to two minutes to bake, in the microwave. This way, I have my cake and eat it, too.
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 On a very sad note, this morning at six, my cat Noche, very suddenly, went to the cat heaven.
She wasn't sick or anything last night. She came to bed, talked to me as she always did, and she was sleeping next to me. At six in the morning, I woke up to her gagging. I said, "Noche, are you ok?" She, then, jumped on the floor and lay dead with her mouth foaming.
I got in touch with my son on the phone, immediately. After making arrangements with the animal hospital that I always took Noche for checkups or whatnot, my son and I drove her there to be cremated. They said she had passed away from a sudden heart attack. She was sixteen, going into seventeen in the fall. In cat years, this is equal to 82, they said.
I'm still in a daze but thank God for my son Al, if he hadn't come right over early in the morning and taken over, I would have been lost.
Noche was/is my last pet. I can't have any others at my age. I'd die of worry about such an animal's future, should something happen to me. I had adopted Noche because she was unwanted, declawed, and couldn't get along with other pets. She wouldn't make it even in a no-kill shelter. I think she was quite comfortable and happy with me and that's the thought that'll keep me going today.
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