May 6, 2021

my grandmother on her wedding day in 1913

I don’t think about bank accounts, bills to be paid, and my list of “to do today” when I awake.

I look outside my window … cloud bottoms are good-morning pink and someone’s rooster is crowing.

I think about my grandmother who was always awake before me.

Already had the chickens fed, coffee made, and asked if I wanted scrambled eggs or fried. Slices of toast were a whole-wheat brown with pools of melted butter.

And during college always welcoming me home with warm smells of something-baking-in-the-oven and sometimes a new quilt made from childhood dresses.

Few words said.

We sat with coffee mugs steaming.

We sat, sipping the sweetness in.

Nancy Bo Flood

As a fish-brain surgeon or a rodeo poem wrangler, I have loved stories. I strongly believe that words – in poetry or prose – help heal our hearts and give us new eyes to see the world. I was first a research psychologist studying brain development at the University of Minnesota and London University before following my passion – writing for children. Learn more...