Sandwiches

On Saturdays at noon and Sundays after church

He’d head to the kitchen

and slowly gather the ingredients

to make sandwiches

on thin bread, or rye.

A modest smear of mayonnaise and mustard,

then roast beef or ham.

A slice of swiss cheese if we had it,

and a bit of tomato in summer- he’d hone the knife blade on the sharpening stone first.

A piece of lettuce, always lettuce.

A grind of pepper and a sprinkle of salt.

I’d stand to the side watching, my mouth watering,

wondering why his sandwiches

tasted so much better than anybody else’s.

I miss those sandwiches that tasted like childhood and love.