Please, Pass the Gravy

For the past year or more there has been a jar of turkey gravy sitting on the back of the pantry. The gravy came with the house. Literally. It is my mother’s house. She moved out and did not take the gravy with her. A number of times I have thought to use the gravy, but haven’t. Why? I thought. Most of the time, I prefer butter and sour cream on my potatoes. The only time I really want gravy is when it’s a holiday, and then I prefer to make my own…

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Gretchen Lee Bourquin 💗POM-poet!💗

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I’m a MN writer battling my demons & learning to celebrate angels. facebook.com/gretchenleewritermn/ twitter.com/gretchenlee instagram.com/gretchenleebourquin

Fiddleheads & Floss Poetry

Poetry * Prose * Life

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