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The lid stuck. Was everso slightly rusted. I'm sure she used to keep buttons in this. Then it gives, belches a burst of ginger and spice.

"Oooh Nan you've done us proud this time"

But there's no one to hear. I plate up a couple of pieces. Deep sticky brown. Pick up the tea-cosy as familiar as an old friend, press it to my nose, inhale deeply.

Remembering.

Then cover the pot. And make my way to the front room. She's there.

Peaceful.

I pull a chair up next to her.

And enjoy the last cake she ever made.

4 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt about 3 years ago

    What a touching memory. I love fact that the lid of the Quality Street tin is stuck and a bit rusted. That alone brings back memories for me. 'Belching a burst' - terrific sensory connection. A beautifully private moment captured. I really like this drabble, Lisa.

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams about 3 years ago

    Every home had one didn't it? Thanks- Took longer to get the right word (belching) than it did to write the rest. Seemed fitting. Really appreciate all your reads & comments X

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt about 3 years ago

    One can never compromise on finding the right word!

  • avatar

    Lisa Williams about 3 years ago

    Not when working to a limit. Need make them all count X

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