And if I do it right, it will look a lot like my Grandmother’s cookbook.

 

I’m writing us a recipe to feed the dead.

(There’s more of them than there are of us)

 

You see, there is a part of her trapped in a glossy plastic-wrapped printed page from 2007 and when it’s thrown out one day as it inevitably will be it will release fury and the smell of coconut oil frying in a wide-bottomed cast iron pan

 

Crouched over, dog-eared and bleeding in one corner where I’ve spilled my wine, this is how I start to conjure

 

* * *

 

0.5 cup salt water

2 handfuls of curly parsley

Olives, as desired

 

3 cup apple cider vinegar

4 cloves of garlic

1 onion

2 sprig of oregano

2 sprig of thyme

2 peppers(of the fire-breathing kind)

2 knuckles of ginger root

Cranberry for the red womb

Handful of peppercorn

1 lock of hair, whatever amount you can stand to part with

 

Step 1: 

Coax gently

{Them that is there,

 but isn’t making themselves known to you yet}, 

Them who are shy,

coming back to a world that wanted them gone, 

understandably 

Build an altar, a site at which they can enjoy your company

 And don’t forget to offer water.

 

*If you’re having trouble, see recipe name

 

Step 2:

Fill a pot with vinegar, the most ravaged by flames you can find

Put it on heat until scalding

 

Step 3:

Chop onion, garlic, ginger, pepper into rough pieces or until the blend squeezes tears out of you

Drop into vinegar with care

 

*Make yourself tender enough to receive their heartache but careful not to let it make a home of you

Remedies to soften the heart may be this:

leave a bowl of olives, and parsley in salt water out for slow sampling.

 

Step 4:

Combine remaining ingredients into a brew, viscous

or bubbling enough to smell like homecoming

 

Stir your brew,

wait for stirrings.

 

*Satiation is hard to come by if you are bitter and angry. There are nesting measuring teaspoons in the right-hand drawer, if you desire to sweeten.

*Add sliced okra to thicken, and for old times’ sake.

*Measure with a mother’s intuition.

 

Step 5:

Pour 3 cups of brew once cooled enough to touch the lips

One for them

One for me

One for who is coming

 

Wait for

 

*What this is, really, is I’m giving you a map of where my mouth has been. Use it wisely, and for others.

 

OH.

 

THERE YOU ARE.

 

IN MY MIND’S EYE

I’VE GOT YOU

 

I’LL SNATCH YOU

I’LL CATCH YOU BACK

 

I’LL HOLD YOU TO ME

LONGER THAN I SHOULD

 

AND IF THE NETHERWORLD RUMBLES, SO BE IT

 

* * *

 

So that’s what I have so far.

 

If I could bake a basket of طابون for every open hand I swear I would, but this will have to do for now. 

This trying thing.

Or like Zake says, “Cooking is a way of insisting on living.”

 

When we rebuild the world, I want us to live this time, 

and I want to 

feed you, too.

 

*Notes on preparation