For the last six months I haven’t cooked much. I had my hands full and I let my mother/husband handle the kitchen. I cooked our meals for the last couple of days. The last time I cooked before yesterday was six months ago, the day before I had a baby. I’d made tandoori chicken and was planning to make brownies the next day. Of course, that didn’t happen. We had to rush to the hospital instead.

I wrote this poem a few months back when I really wanted to cook something elaborate but couldn’t.

To reenter the kitchen
To reclaim that space
That now seems foreign
But was once solely mine.

I miss the aromas
And the mess
The clink clanks of spatula meets pot
And the best part
A drizzle, a dab
On the thick of my palm
While still hot
While still cooking
A flick of the tongue
To taste
To adjust
Salt and such
Before sitting down
To relish
What took all morning
To see if it’s hits the spot.