A poem, sort of about ice cream

but it's really about my grandma

The Hazelnut Ice Cream We Started Two Weeks Ago Still Isn’t Finished

She insists on driving home from the dance.
“This is something I can still do.” 
I’m holding all her bags and her hand and I give her the keys because
maybe this is the last time.
But she still drives like a maniac
and so maybe this is also my last time…
and I weigh those realities as I open the drivers door for her.
When we get home there is an open iPad on the table -
“I thought I paid that bill”
and ice cream that needs churning because 
“the cream and the eggs and the hazelnuts
cannot go to waste.”
I get the metal bowl out of the freezer
and she spies a candlestick, 
tucked between the popsicles. 
While I fiddle with the machine, she fiddles with the wax,
popping off drips with a dull knife. 
But I need chapstick and we both meander to the bedroom to find some. 
Which reminds her to go to bed,
which I send her off to with a kiss and turn back 
to dishes littered across the sink 
and bags forgotten amongst blenders plugged in 
to sockets not on and lids missing jars missing 
contents relabeled and rewashed and carrying 
varying degrees of significance I’ve long ceased to question. 
The value of any given item in this house is indeterminable by glance. 
“Everything in its place.” I repeat as I 
tidy and putter and put bags in bags
and lids in jars in bigger jars yet.
She emerges from the bathroom in a long cotton gown 
and declares the ice cream I’ve  
forgotten, done. 
So we stand over the machine, 
dipping gold plated spoons into hazelnut slush and conspire 
to make “the most delicious affogatos” in the morning. 
“In the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
A last lick of spatula and spoon and bowl and lid. 
She putters away and I spy the candlestick, 
tucked between the pots and pans by the stove. 
I will finish this job and the dishes and the putting away
and I think this is how it will go. 
She will forget and I will forget and messes will be made 
and cleaned and god forbid we both lose it at the same time. 

4/3/25 - Sofia