The Taste of Love

    “The Taste of Love,” New Era, Aug. 1983, 26

    The Taste of Love


    sends her love,

    my mother said

    as she leaned over

    to kiss me.

    She’ll be here

    in a week.

    As I wiped

    mom’s lipstick

    off my forehead

    I wondered

    how grandma

    could put


    in an envelope.


    in the kitchen,

    mom said

    as I raced in

    the front door

    with a

    finger painting

    in my fist.

    I found grandma

    behind the counter

    wearing an apron,

    her hands white

    with flour.

    I love you,

    she said

    handing me

    a warm

    cinnamon roll.

    I smiled

    a thank-you

    and finished

    my roll

    so I could give


    a hug.

    But inside

    I was anxious

    to talk

    to my mother.

    I had to tell her

    that grandma

    couldn’t have

    sent her love

    in a letter.

    She brought it all

    with her

    and put it in

    the cinnamon rolls.