At three, dry the forks with a flour-sack towel.
At four, dust the baseboards with an old undershirt.
At five, iron Daddy's handkerchiefs
and fold them into neat rectangles.
Mama prepares her daughter for a woman's future,
keeping house
like all of the silver and sepia women in her photo albums.
She can't predict a future of
interactive teleconferencing and data storage solutions
any more than her daughter can predict
a time when plunging her hands
into a sink full of spoons and hot bubbles
would be the most peaceful part of her day.
Keeping House
At the end of Mes de los Muertos, the author discovers a surprising connection to her ancestor. In memory of Lillie Mae Tanner Coffey, 1929-2003.