To Cheren
Just sitting here, contemplating
how much I’ve overeaten (overhungry
and ate too fast), bemoaning that full-
to-bursting feeling, when a sweet memory
comes out of nowhere: “Too Much Food Night!”
And suddenly, there she is, full-blown.
She asked me if I ever had those nights—
order everything off the menu for delivery,
go to bed with a movie and “too much food!”
She was a woman of muchness—much love,
much joy, much humor. We met over food—
a stranger through a newsletter asked me
to send her mélasse from
Switzerland.
She’d send me money, she promised.
This before PayPal and QuickPays.
A young one, sweet, begging for
a jar of golden childhood memory.
I took a chance, sent the jar,
a friendship was born.
Parcels exchanged—fruit pastilles from London,
clogs from Sweden to her. A matryoshka doll
and Indian tea, brass and shawl to me. Much email,
her in the US, me in Europe. A penfriend forged
over love of food and travel.
One sweet visit, a dinner etched in memory.
Planning more—a nice long visit, but then—
An illness.
Phone calls.
Love.
Gone too soon.
But still here, still in our memories:
Ever beautiful, ever smiling, and ever,
for ever, lest this be too solemn, the wiseass.
