I gaze down the buffet line looking for all my favorites.
There’s Grandmother’s deviled eggs, with four marked
for me, no pickles. Fresh sweet corn from Rachael Mae’s garden,
perfectly buttered and salted, crispy fried chicken
from the local deli. I might need an extra plate.
I see baked pineapple casserole, green beans seasoned
with ham, juicy red watermelon. But wait.
Where’s Edith’s oyster casserole? And what about
those sweet bananas covered with nuts only Louella
could make? I can’t seem to find Laura Bell’s squash casserole
or Emma’s blackberry cobbler. I miss all those things,
but I miss those sweet ladies even more.