Tomato Jam

tomato jam thick
with tangy lemon slices
brings back summer’s warmth
The air hung heavy and thick at my grandparents’ house.  The humid Illinois air held onto smells that never lingered in the arid air of my California home.  Their basement smelled musty, warm and damp from the wringer washing machine.  A basket under the laundry chute caught the toys and clothes we dropped down from the upstairs hallway; the basement aroma rising through the chute to greet us.  We tossed birdseed on the back lawn and caught fireflies in jars.  We baked sugar cookies, thin and crisp.  I have my grandma’s recipe for those cookies — and for the tomato jam we spread on toast for breakfast.

17 thoughts on “Tomato Jam

  1. A vivid sense of place. The shifts within the prose part that act as transitions between places, make this a tight haibun. Very nicely done. I love the haiku. I need to see if I have anything approaching tomato jam…margo

  2. By the way – I finally wrote my first piece about place today! Yippee! I saw some clothes on a clothesline- and I was roped in. I did not meet the the prompt … but it is about place. Hope all is well at your place. 🙂

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