I'll never forget the warmth of my grandma's old gas stove
In the cramped two-bedroom apartment that always smelled like smoke
My grandpa would sit in his room with a cigarette in his left hand
Stroking his coarse grey beard while solving a crossword puzzle
My grandma would be shuffling around in her kapcie, house slippers
Baking and cooking and frying and banging pots and pans
Boiling strawberry jam with fresh fruits picked from her dzialka, yard
And pickling cucumbers and cabbage and mushrooms in glass jars
I'll never forget the sweet smell of nalesniki wafting from the kitchen
In my paternal grandfather's loft, up on the fifth floor
Cottage cheese crepes fried in oil, dipped in jam
It was my favourite breakfast as a kid
My grandpa's dog, Grot, would wag his tail and beg for crumbs
Then we'd go for walks to the old town
Strolling along the cobblestoned streets of Olsztyn, my hometown
The sun warming me up on a bright summer day
I'll never forget my great-grandparents' small carpeted apartment
My great-grandma preparing a feast every time I visited
Soups, polpety - cutlets, perogies, chicken, cabbage
She would show me her newest calendar, always of the Pope
While my great-grandpa told me stories of the war
Stories that I didn't fully comprehend, not then
The air in the living room smelled heavy, like roses
And deep, musky perfume
Even though I didn't like the smell, I never wanted to leave
These are all memories that have been perhaps skewed over time
But the emotions, the snippets of remembrance are there
Of all the people who touched my life when I was a child
Of all the people who have already left the Earth
It was only via a Skype call, a phone call, a text
That I got to say goodbye
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