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My wooden spoon


My wooden spoon

I want my wooden spoon to have been carved by hand in a rainforest somewhere
I don’t want some hokey certificate with it
No, I want it to be a gift from a friend who lived there for six years or so before he died tragically in a…
plane crash
I want there to be a strange symbol on the bottom of the spoon side
I don’t want anyone to know for sure what it means ,ever
But I don’t have any friends to speak of to give or guess or stir spaghetti sauce
All I have is a wooden spoon from Walmart with two gashes in the bottom from a blender accident two years ago

About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

6 responses »

  1. I just love this! πŸ™‚ It reminds me of my twisted spatula that melted on the edge of a hot pan. Thank you for writing . . .so much. You inspire me!

  2. wherearetheheros

    “My twisted spatula” sounds like a great book or short story. πŸ™‚
    Much more intriguing than a common wooden spoon.

    I am glad for you to be here, inspiration works both ways.


  3. ha, ha – bizarre and excellent

  4. Wow. In the midst of this determination to discover where you begin, and in the midst of this awe normally reserved for all of Rumi and all of Hafiz and most of Alden Nowlan, I come to this, which can only be described as one of those moments, you know those moments when we forget that we’re looking, forget what we came for, that thought that we thought had it all figured out, for sure, and forgetting and unfigured we smack into that big, surprising guffaw, that huge, hard belly laugh that takes our breath away, just like that.

    Some spoon.
    ~ RK


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