We are in Grandmother, Stella Tilson’s, kitchen in the west Texas rent house.

All the adults are squeezed around the oval table.

Everyone is dressed up.

Stella, wearing an apron, with hands on her hips

is leaning against the sink.

She is proud of the meal she has prepared.

​    Fried chicken

​   mashed potatoes

​    green beans

    cantaloupe

    sweet iced tea.

Granddaddy adds more sugar.

 

Mother is sitting next to aunt Barbara.

They both have wavy, luxurious hair

& are wearing dark lipstick & earrings.

 

Mother’s posture suggests she is reaching towards someone.

Because I remember this house,

I know that she is sitting near the doorway

to a room where a card table is set up for six grandchildren.

 

This pose is a nurturing gesture.

There is tenderness in the way she holds her arms.

This is a portrait of my mother.

This is what she did, solely, and to the best of her ability.