The smell of coffee…

Waking up in my childhood 
home, getting ready for school,
standing in front of the fireplace 
warming my clothes.
Mom is there,
a cup in her hand.
She rests it on the mantle. 
Expertly brushing and braiding 
two long braids, over my head 
goes the slip, one arm, then
the other slides into the
freshly ironed sleeves of my
bright white blouse, so many 
buttons down the front, pearlescent,
most of them hidden under the
brown woolen jumper, handmade. 
She takes a sip from the white cup
trimmed in grey, then pulls up my
white kneesocks and feet slipping 
into black patent leather shoes 
with a strap across the top of each foot.
A last drink and she heads 
back to the kitchen to top
off her cup, finishes packing 
three lunches, puts butter,
brown sugar and milk in my
oatmeal, checks on my sisters,
hugs and kisses as we follow 
Dad out the door. 
She stands there, the light 
from the living room behind her,
her coffee steaming in her cup,
the house quiet now.
She will wash clothes with 
a wringer washer, work on
the dress she’s making for Kim,
clean the breakfast dishes,
prepare food for supper,  
her cup will always be full. 

6/14/24
KW