Ode to a Grease Jar

You lived in my Grandma’s house.

You were in my life

because I was in hers –

her house and her life and her heart.

Then you came to live with me

along with your friends

SALT, FLOUR, and SUGAR

because she no longer

had a house (or a need for you),

but I did.

And we used you,

Richard and I,

and that is how you came

to be broken…

in the service of the use for

which you were intended.

We were sad – very sad.

Richard tried to mend you

with magic and super glue

even as we left remnants of

the grease that had broken you

still clinging to your patched and

fractured walls.

Maybe they would remind you

of your purpose and service and

make you whole again.

Then again, maybe not.

Even purpose does not bestow immortality.

Ann Brandenburg-Schroeder

10/19/2019 (1 month after her ALS diagnosis)