I always laugh about spilled cream

I always laugh about spilled cream,
even the special from-the-farm whipping cream
from well loved cows
in a glass bottle,
which tips over in my friend’s kitchen
when she hit it with the hand mixer.

“Whoops, chemo-brain,” she says,
and we start pushing the counter flood
back into the bowl
with our hands
(the sponges are disgusting)
while dancing around
to prevent beagle bellyache
from too much dairy
before we can mop up the floor.

She’s been telling me
that they are going later in the week
to buy a grave,
also apologizing that the crust
on her perfect strawberry-rhubarb pie
is a little brown —

that’s when the cream went,
and I’m glad I remember my mama’s words,
“it’s no use crying …”

My friend and I have shared tears
for many, many years,
but on the balance
there has been so much more laughter.

(sometimes I just share a personal poem — this is for Diane)

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8 Responses to I always laugh about spilled cream

  1. Stephen Price says:

    Thank you for reminding us about the beautiful, funny moments that surprise us even in this bittersweet moment filled with pathos. They are like we just walked square onto the heart of God, a MD you describe the landscape there so we’ll for us.

  2. Maren says:

    Thank you, Stephen.

  3. Titia Bozuwa says:

    You make her situation perfectly clear, as well as the deeper message. You are a mMaster with words, Maren!

  4. celestem579 says:

    : ] Thank you for the personal poem. God bless you in these tender times. Celeste

  5. Eleanor Kraner says:

    This has touched me deeply. Life is full of hellos and goodbyes. So much of bitter sweetness. Ellie Kraner

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  6. Jessica McArdle says:

    Achingly poignant and beautiful, Maren. Surely a tribute to a much-loved friend. What an expansive, poetic heart you have.

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