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Together, above the kitchen sink, we peeled/ a hundred russets. You taught me how
Steven Espada Dawson
to scoop their eyes out. If we didn’t,// they’d watch us eat, you said.
Potatoes have always given me purpose and comfort and pleasure. Mashing potatoes was my first job during preparing family dinners as a child. My grandfather taught me how to dig potatoes in his garden. I still bring the potatoes to pitch ins. Stories are told over potatoes. I belong. I contribute. The world makes sense.
Family dinners are different now and the land where our garden once thrived is part of an international airport. Life goes on. I still mash potatoes. I carry the lessons with me. Knowing exactly where to stab the potato mound meant I knew how to pay attention. Family stories flowed easily when mashing potatoes and I knew how to listen. Patience was demanded as we peeled. Potatoes asked that we slow down. Having the right tools was important, too.
Potatoes were also one of my first lessons in gratitude. Let me explain. I was truly grateful to be included in the process of making the meal. It is beautiful to be part of feeding others. I was grateful for belonging. I was grateful for the shape it gave to my understanding of home and family. I was grateful for the rhythm of it all.
About Katie
Born in Louisville. Live in Atlanta. Curious by nature. Researcher by education. Writer by practice. Grateful heart by desire.
Buy the Book!
The Stage Is On Fire, a memoir about hope and change, reasons for voyaging, and dreams burning down can be purchased on Amazon.