Author and poet, EEOrme uses her cadent voice to draw her readers into memories that find their heartbeats best in worn floor boards, scuffed back doors, tattooed tables, and faded patterns of pink and green. In 500 words she reminds us of importance of tradition and home.
The Coffee stains on the table are my grandfathers. Each intersecting circle creates an Olympic design. The curtains were sown by my grandmother, yellow with little red flowers faded by a thousand sunrises to varying shades of light pink. The chip in the oak countertop is my mothers, the place where she sliced a thousand cuts of meat and missed the cutting board only twice. The scrapes on both side of the back door belong to the dozens of dogs who have graced our lives with wet noses, wet kisses and the click of claws on the hardwood door. The scrape on the floor belongs to my father, the place where he drug his chair along the old oak planks, bellying up to the table, newspaper in hand.
If I were to find my place in this old farm house, it would be in the attic where the pink and…
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