The World In Her Kitchen

Everyone came to Jo Jo’s house, with its smell of fresh baked pie, clouds of drugstore perfume from the coffee klatch that met up on Wednesdays at her formica kitchen table, and if you tried hard enough, a faint whiff of Semiahmoo Bay. Hidden within the wall-to-wall orange carpet, you’d probably find years of ground in prom corsage petals, Halloween candy and strands of Barbie hair.

Jo Jo didn’t travel much, and preferred to bring the world into her kitchen, via exchange students from Colombia and Peru, by her collection of international cookbooks and one afternoon, my Finnish mother and I walked up her front steps and into her life…


3 thoughts on “The World In Her Kitchen

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