Wednesday, November 2, 2011
On "Saying Grace" by Jean-Baptiste Chardin
In my kitchen, I see my mother and sister. We are sitting around the table and we are saying grace. I smell the soup that mother prepared for us. It is my favorite, chicken noodle. I hear the sound of my mother pouring the soup into bowls as we pray. My sister is softly murmuring the prayer. She is tired. I feel the warmth coming from the stove where mother cooked the soup. It looks delicious. I cannot wait to eat. I notice that mother has left a pot on the floor. I tell her so that she does not trip on it. My sister is wearing a pink dress and I am wearing a white one. Mother is wearing a maroon dress and green apron with a white bonnet. My sister has a pink bonnet and I have one like mother's. My sister has hung her drum on the back of her chair. Mother sits. We eat our soup. It is as good as it looked. When we are finished, my sister takes her nap. I stay up and help mother with the dishes. Then I take the drum off the chair and quietly put it down in my sister's room. She is asleep. I quietly tiptoe back down again. Tomorrow I think we are having steak. I hope it is good.