Continuity To my parents, Zenaida Iglesias (the “Galician”) and Miguel Olivé … immortalizing the memories. Don Gutteridge I have a connection with rocking chairs, both dad and mom loved their wooden ones and ended the day comfortably seated before our ancient black-and-white, light-bulb, two-channel TV set. Almost fifty years later that image stays with me, it recurred when I came from school weekends and entered the cement pathway leading to my door: I instantly saw my mother smiling from her rocker a gift of guava pies baking in the oven, black bean soup boiling in the pressure cooker and ensalada fría reaching * my nose, awakening my taste buds. She knew how I craved her cooking after a week away from home… When I visit my childhood house – not ours any more – I am blessed again with those visions and memories strong enough to endure. There are reminders of those years here now with my eighty-four-year-old father who takes toddler steps out to the patio where his favorite rocking chair, today a rubber one, awaits for him to sunbathe, and continuity is safe in seeing my daughters and granddaughter rock their happiness in their own rockers watching cartoons in their flat-screen, multi-channel, color TV.
* Poet´s note: Ensalada fría: A chicken-and-pineapple-based salad enhanced with boiled potato dice (my mother never used spaghetti,noodles, macaroni or ravioli of any kind), dressed with home-made mayonnaise (she had her own recipe for this too) and decorated on the surface with slices of sweet pepper. Mom would not let my sister or me touch it until it had cooled in the fridge for a few hours. It was heaven in food form.
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