We were in your mother’s kitchen
A family get together in Madrid, and my wife had an important announcement to make.
We were in your mother’s kitchen,
The noise of the TV distracting
From the sentence you wished to say,
When you said we’d thrown ours away,
And she amazed asked, how do you pass your time?
Your look telling me not to talk about our books –
She’s never been a reader, not even “¡Hola!” –
Directed me to the paella pan instead,
Where we discussed the shrimp and the octopii,
The nuanced taste a subtle bite of orange brings.
A pinch of saffron, thyme and fresh black pepper
Added, she turned, said “Now it is complete,”
And as she served she looked across at you –
Behind us Julio crooning Begin the Beguine –
“Amore, I can’t wait to be a grandmother.”
Bhi, if this is (as I suspect) a memory, aren’t such moments magical? Just as is your poem.
What a lovely memory to share with us, and (as with all good story telling) leaves us wanting to know more. (You just need to erase ‘Delete this text and enter your own’ – not mandatory of course. 🙂 )
Hi Griff, This is indeed one of my treasured memories, when my partner announced, or rather tried to announce, she was pregnant. Spanish households can be loud at the best of times, and this was no exception, but her mother’s intuition came to the fore, hence the remark about becoming a grandmother, without being told.
Still trying to get to grips with the “features” of this site, and will heed your advice.
All the best
I sat in a Catalonia hotel room for days – too hot outside – watching Spanish quiz shows – loud and entertaining insofar as I understood what was going on – and I didn’t much. I can imagine the kitchen scene – nice vivid description
Wonderful daytime viewing! What’s the saying; it’s so bad it’s addictive.
I spent many an evening escaping with her father to the local tapas bar, sitting right next to the freshly served trays so we could do the “tasting”. The family would join us around 10 at night and we’d saunter home past midnight, the parents would retire to the late shows and my lady and I join horns to replay the conception.
I never grew tired of ‘concepción repetición‘ 🙂
Rick, I would never have guessed!
Those were the days! (*Sighs*)
Thanks, TR. It was one of those moments when the food, the music and the family blended into a long evening of celebration, not that we would need an excuse!
But it was uncanny how her mother “knew”, and how she conveyed it to her daughter.
I was waiting for someone from the feminine side to remark in answer, “A Mother always knows!” 😉
my daughter was 6 months pregnant – I never noticed – a couple having a glass of vino asked me how it felt being a grandfather again? I called to my daughter ‘are you pregnant?’ not expecting her to say she was.
I guess a mother might know but a mere bloke?
Well we know how you were passing your time before that! 😉 A lovely poem full of life and happy chatter.
Thanks for sharing.