Food and memories go a long way
From fork to mouth to ties that transcend
The passing of time, of life.
Take papaya, soft-boiled eggs, and toast
People find it strange that I liked old people food
From when I was a young girl,
It’s the feeling of comfort and memory now
Of eating with my Oji-chan in the morning
He gave me sips of his coffee, sweet and creamy
Like coffee candy.
One time, Oji-chan was in the kitchen
Making us chawan mushi—that steamed egg custard
With bits of chicken, shitake and shrimp,
Something beyond our tastes, and short of appreciation
For him and his efforts, he never made it again.
Now, I look for it on menus and savor it
Hoping Oji-chan knows it brings me comfort.