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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72" style='word-wrap:break-word'><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>While bread dough rises to the top<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>of old enamel bowls in the warmth<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>of a spartan farmhouse kitchen,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Great-Aunt Ivy and I, hands in motion,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>perched on a worn wooden bench, shell peas <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>picked early that morning for supper.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Taking to the familiar task with muscle memory,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>her gnarled hands speed in synchronized movement<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>as my five-year-old fingers lag behind.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Her basin filled with a mountain of peas,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Ivy lavishes praise born of love <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>on the tiny pile scarcely covering my pan’s bottom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Decades later, in an apartment’s galley kitchen,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>the grown child now older than the Ivy <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>held in that long-ago memory<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>shakes frozen peas into a pot of soup<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>and cuts a slice from store-bought bread<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>but remembers to add a pinch of Ivy’s love.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> By Sally Rosenthal<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>