The Grocery Store and the Church Fair
december 6
evening, biting cold wind.
tonight, grief is the canned soup section
of the grocery store.
she is happy to be
out of the cold, happy
for good lighting and even footing, but when
she notices a can of progresso
minestrone on the shelf
she trips on an unexpected patch of loss,
her eyes filling with the quick
prick of tears even as she smiles,
seeing, as she does
in her heart,
her father, in his nineties,
a widower for several years, navigating
the grocery aisle with
his slightly uneven gait,
his purposefulness,
his underlying self-sufficiency
and equanimity as he
deliberates his soup choice.
he’s now gone, four years gone.
who, she wonders, now buys
the canned minestrone
at the bethel foodliner?
whose daughters now wait
for their father’s nightly
email message, with its enumeration
of the day’s tasks and dinner details?
this daughter, the one who’s just
stumbled, resumes walking,
steps into the kitchen of her mind,
heats minestrone on the stove,
spoons it into her mouth, feels
the proprietary blend
of love, loss, laughter
and gratitude fill her belly
and nourish her, feels its
warmth radiate outward
in all directions, feels
her father lean in
to smell the sun in her hair.
—dotty seiter
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4.25 x 4.5″; acrylic, ink, watercolor pencil, water-soluble pastel,
and collage on paper
Let’s Face It With Friends series
2025
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Notes about poem and art:
• “december 6” is a free-verse poem from the heart. I continue to read and study Kooser’s Wiinter Morning Walks daily. I’m eager to read more of his collections. So much to learn; so exciting to anticipate the learning!
• I started The Friend Who Knits with a scrap of paper sporting an existing chaos layer, whitewashed it with gesso, added print and tissue paper collage, and scribbled some asemic writing before I lost track of taking process photos!
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8 responses to “The Grocery Store and the Church Fair”
What a lovely and emotional tribute to your father.
Love the way in a simple moment, seeing a can of minestrone soup, brings on a flood of wonderful memories!
How you cook “ into the kitchen of her mind” to further feel your father’s presence!
I do recall all the posts of postcards you sent!
What a cute lady that knits beanies for the church fair! Love your process!
Carol, thanks for your warm feedback. That moment of stumbling into grief, which includes so much love, was profound with the fullness of life. I was grateful to have Ted Kooser’s model of stepping into metaphor to express the flash of feelings : )
So sweet that you remember all the postcards I sent to my dad.
I enjoyed the process of creating the friend that knits beanies.
MaryAnn, it IS wonderful when something as simple as a can of Progresso soup can spark such sweet closeness. Part of the wonder is at the number of times I have walked down the soup aisle in a grocery store in the past 4+ years since my father died as well as since writing this poem withOUT that flash of grief, flash of love, flash of connection. Thank you for letting me know my poem pulled at your heartstrings.
Wish I’d remembered to take more process shots when creating the Friend Who Knits. It was an intuitive organic process—fun!
Liked by 1 person
THIS! The poem touched me deeply – soup choices and dads, loss, grief and where the emotions can suddenly overwhelm, seemingly out of the blue. And here you are, so beautifully conveying this moment AND THEN there is this cheery knitting beanie lady who makes everything feel so much better! Brilliant. xoxoxo
Lola, thank you for seeing this post as a whole, with its flash of grief and its happy hands knitting cheery beanies!
I was just in a grocery store a few minutes ago and made a point of letting my eyes seek out the Progresso soups section; easily found, but tonight—a night very similar to that of December 6, again with biting wind outdoors—the Progresso soups were just soups, product on the shelves, tin cans, labels. There’s no telling!
xoxo
Oh, Dotty. This is so wonderful. Lovely memories. Lovely thoughts, and feelings. And so wonderfully written. I’m so emotional, after reading your words today.
I recently, suddenly realized that it has been 6 years since my father’s passing. How can that be? I suppose that is part of why your poem had such an effect on me. I am reminded of Audrey Hepburn’s line In Always. “Time’s funny stuff, Pete. A lot funnier than Einstein ever figured out.” Time is funny stuff all right.
I Love your brilliant, blushing friend! She looks so happy and fun to be around. I can’t help but smile at her magenta magnificence!
Bravo, Dotty! xoxo
Sheila, thanks so much for your tender comments. It’s coming up on five years since my father’s death—your allusion to “Time’s funny stuff, Pete. A lot funnier than Einstein ever figured out” is so apt, and poignant. Thank you.
My “brilliant, blushing friend” lifts my spirits—she does look “fun to be around” : )
GUEST ART! 
