Through rose tinted glasses: the year is 1964, Pops is playing “doo wop” while handling Ma in the kitchen. She slaps him away annoyingly and continues to make stew. Yes, stew, comfort food. She always knew what to make when it was cold outside. Pops still handling Ma, smiling a Cheshire cat smile, the corners of his mouth barely grazing his ears.

Ma skins the potatoes, he dances around her. Kissing her every once in a while to remind her that he has not forgotten his motive. She smirks, reassuring him that she wasn’t as annoyed as she played. Plop! In the potatoes go.

“Hey, baby!” HE starts walking down memory lane as the song changes. She chops the carrots, laughing and shaking her head sharing in the reminisce. Pop puts his finger tips on the back of her knee moving them rhythmically as if her thigh was an instrument of music. “Yea I remember,” Ma says as Pop finished his stroll down memory lane. Splosh! Add the carrots.
Pop, slides over to the freezer and pulls out a bottle of Hennessy. Ma dices the celery, glancing over her shoulder. * Smrik* He pulls a glass out from the cabinet, swaying his hips and biting his lip as he pours his elixir into the crystal. Splash! Only a few more ingredients.

Finally moving from her cooking station, Ma moves past Pop and grabbed the beef from the fridge. His eyes light up with desire, as if he had just seen her move for the first time. His fire unnoticed she continues with dinner. Grabbing seasonings from the cabinet above her, like a witch conducting the perfect spell. Flicking and shaking smells and colors onto the pieces of chopped cow. Plop plop! Meat!

Pop, is starring at her intensely, licking the last of the Hennessy off his lips. The song changes, he walks up behind her. She’s pulling the leaves off a rosemary twig, sprinkling them into the stew. He nestles his nose in her mountain of hair, orange jasmine. She closes her eyes anticipating what is to come next. Pop wraps his arms around her waist and they sway to the song, one complete unit. Lightly kisses her neck. *Swish* Spins her around to face him. Before he kisses her, she stares her in the eyes, silently reminding her how much she means to him.

Then it begins, a hot, wet coalesce between lovers. After a few hours of heavy breathing, rubbing, teasing the doorbell rings. “Hold on,” Ma tries to yell, while gasping for air. Pops buckles his belt and pulls over his tank. Walks to open the door allowing Ma more time to collect herself. ”Hey daddy!” It’s baby girl, she is smiling a toothless smile because she missed him. She jumps into his arms. Pops kisses her on the cheek. Walking to the kitchen baby girl releases herself of her school clothes, leaving them scattered in a trail from the door to the kitchen. Ma is waiting by the table smiling — she bends down to hug her baby. *Sniff* Orange jasmine.

Around the table the three sit, hand in hand, thanking God for bringing them together. Stew pot in the middle of the table, a delicious center piece. Ma pours some for baby girl, then Pops. He takes a bite, perfect. She isn’t a witch, but a fairy, who concocted the perfect love potion, stew. They love her, they indulge in every bite, staying in a dreamy state to prove that love her. Comfort. Food.

Samantha Thompson
Pitched Entry