This painting represents all the complicated emotions I have entangled with my childhood home.


Child of Cast Iron Skillets

I am from cast iron skillets, Quaker corn meal and sugar. 

I am from the falling apart house with the tiny, messy kitchen.

I am from the marigolds. The Sycamore trees whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. 

I’m from cooking and peace – from dragons and scholars. 

I’m from listening and stillness and naps. 

I’m from “don’t borrow worry” and carpe diem and “it takes all kinds.” 

I’m from wolves. 

I’m from the midwest and the pioneers, mashed potatoes and apple sauce.

From a small but strong woman who survived her fractures and breaks and carved a family with a cast iron skillet that has a place on my stove.