A List of Those Things
By Alina Zollfrank
November 15, 2024
November 15, 2024
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A teaspoon of honey. A checkered scarf for your neck.
A blooming spiked cactus. A nibble. A speck. A duck-tolling retriever. A transparent umbrella. What they call galoshes. When someone says “hella.” A handful of licorice. Some chamomile tea. Some salsa. Jarred peaches. That hug you give me. The old denim vest. Wool gloves, winter suede boots. A tinkling fountain. The owls’ nightly hoots. Seagulls’ shrill shrieks. Cello bowstrings’ purrs. My hand on soft ears. Your hand on pup’s fur. A lick of malt lolly. A taste of squash soup. My aunt’s roasted gravy. Whirligigs. And a whoop. Bees in the lilac. A puddle with splash. Foot rubs. Love letters. Green Gravenstein mash. The worn wooden clogs. Oma’s wall clock's ticks. Cool fingers on foreheads. Noses for picks. Buttons for twisting. Well-done! shoulder slaps. Pastel-colored scratch paper. Road-to-anywhere maps. A mouthful of rhubarb. The old moon overhead. Our fingers entwined. Yeast scent, homemade bread. A toddler’s bright giggle. Just staying in bed. Rewatching The Martian. When we broke the sled. Wiggly skin on warm pudding. All the stories we read. Such moments we shared. Such joy to be had. |
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Alina Zollfrank from (former) East Germany dreams and writes trilingually in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and recently appeared in October Hill Magazine, Psaltery & Lyre, Pulse Voices, Halfway Down the Stairs, Reckon Review, Comstock Review, Orchards Poetry Journal, HOOT, and others. Her essay “Mein Apfelbaum” will be featured in the 2024 garden anthology by Wild Librarian Press, and her poem “Forces” in the Ecobloomspaces print anthology by Iron Oak Editions. Alina cares, more or less successfully, for two teens and a husband with complex health care needs, three rescue dogs, and a dense garden. She is a grateful recipient of the 2024 Washington Artist Trust Grant.
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Author’s Note:
When my kids were little and having a rough time, we’d sing alternative versions of “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music to lift our spirits. When my husband’s cancer returned this year shortly before our anniversary, I instinctively tossed up small memories, stirred, and cooked up a “A List of Those Things.” Reading it out loud feels like home. There’s a lot of dark in the world right now, and maybe this wordy celebration of connection and love can comfort others as well.