Running Through a Hurricane
to my grandmother's kitchen
Somedays I want to run headlong into a hurricane,
despite the driving rain and gale force winds I’ll face along the way.
Those gale force winds stealing my breath with every inhale.
The driving rain blinding my path and searing my body,
until my lungs are saturated with fire.
I’ll struggle on my way,
despite nature’s attempt to force me backward.
Backward towards forward.
I’ll pick myself up and fight my way forward.
Forward towards backward.
Until I reach the centre, where I'll find peace
in the eye of my grandmother’s kitchen.
On a Sunday night,
when the families have all gone to their separate homes.
When the dishes are all cleaned and put away.
When it’s just the two of us enjoying a cup of tea
and slice of her famous gingerbread,
or a tea biscuit,
or whatever treat she made that weekend.
Then she’ll tell me,
with a smile on her face and a tear in her eyes,
just what life was like,
in her version
of the good old days.
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Written for the "grandma's kitchen" prompt in the FB group Vocal * Voices in Minor.
About the Creator
Cathy holmes
Canadian family girl with a recently discovered love for writing. Other loves include animals and sports.
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Comments (16)
I love this, friend! You did a beautiful job taking me right into the chaos of life, and then wrapped us in a warm cozy blanket of comfort in grandma's kitchen. I want to curl up in the lap of the end of this piece.
Lovely work and memories Cathy!! ☺️👏
This was a very sweet tribute to your grandma’s memory. The use of the hurricane as a metaphor for life’s turmoil that you had to go through to get to the sanctuary of her kitchen was very on point. Great job.
I love this, I was always jealous of kids with grandmas!
Made me miss my grandma’s too
This makes me miss my grandma so. Great job ❤️
Reminds me of delivering newspapers in Watertown, South Dakota in blizzard conditions. I remember one storm where it was impossible to walk up one exposed icy street against the wind, so my brother & I had to walk around on a more sheltered street to approach it from the other side. Getting home to set my feet in front of a furnace vent was pure bliss. Sitting at grandma's table would have been even better.
Whoaaa, this was so intense, emotional and nostalgic! Gosh I'm at a loss for words! Well done Queen!
remembering precious moments....no wonder you'd fight a hurricane to get to her!
Very nostalgic and wonderful. Awesome Cathy
Lovely & awesome!!!💕❤️❤️
Fabulous work Cathy! This was something special!
Amazing words and in a group I am totally unaware of. Thank you for these words
Oh, my God, Cathy, your Grandma, and my Grandma must have been cut from the same mold. I'm in tears; I love this. <3
How do you depict *stunned silence in emojis? Cathy, this is. I don't even know. Just tears...again 🤍
What a relatable feeling to sit at the table with grandma and listen to her history! Amazing poem that brings nostalgia.