The "Other Girl"
The smell of Dad's cooking fills the house.
It’s days like this that make me feel better.
Days when Nonna is sitting on the couch,
Knitting yet another sweater
That will no doubt find it’s way
Into my closet when she’s done.
Days when Dad doesn’t order takeout,
Instead cracking open Nonna and Nonno’s old cookbook
To make what Nonna calls a “traditional Italian meal.”
Days when we gather around the kitchen table
And Dad makes jokes that Nonna doesn’t get
But I do and we both end up laughing at Nonna’s confused look.
Days when Nonna scolds Dad, telling him,
“If Nonno was still here, he’d get out his belt,”
But Dad just smiles and tells Nonna,
“He sure would.”
I wish these days would come more often.
Days when Nonna is sitting on the couch,
Knitting yet another sweater
That will no doubt find it’s way
Into my closet when she’s done.
Days when Dad doesn’t order takeout,
Instead cracking open Nonna and Nonno’s old cookbook
To make what Nonna calls a “traditional Italian meal.”
Days when we gather around the kitchen table
And Dad makes jokes that Nonna doesn’t get
But I do and we both end up laughing at Nonna’s confused look.
Days when Nonna scolds Dad, telling him,
“If Nonno was still here, he’d get out his belt,”
But Dad just smiles and tells Nonna,
“He sure would.”
I wish these days would come more often.