Queen E. has been perched on my shoulder and pirouetting through my thoughts frequently during  my quarantine.

I channel her as I spend hours cooking in the kitchen.

I now understand why she was tired from being a stay at home mom.

Even in later years when it was just my dad under foot I understand the timely exercise of planning meals, grocery shopping, hours on your feet prepping meals, being challenged to pull together delicious, diverse menus…keeping the house clean and organizing schedules.

I wish I could sit down with a cup of coffee and a little something sweet and tell her, “I really get you!”

I wish I could call her and tell her how her recipes have held up and still resonate.

I want to reach out to her every time I see a beautiful purple flower or article of clothing that I know she would adore, a lavish lavender decor.

I would enjoy discussing the political situation with Queen E…she could not stand Agent Orange.

On my birthday last week I missed her telling me  every year about the day I was born.

She wanted a girl so badly.

She was calling my grandmother after my birth. Her favorite Aunt Mollie, Syd’s sister, was calling my mom in the hospital and the “wires crossed” as she liked to say and all three of them were on the phone together screaming with joy, “it’s a girl!”

We laughed our asses off at the much repeated story of how Syd’s first question was if I had straight hair and when she learned I was born with a full head of black curly hair she said, “Don’t worry, we can have it straightened!”

Then she told my mom not to allow me to accept anything under four carats from my future husband…you had to know this fashion plate, sassy, easy going character…I called her Syd because she reject the grandma moniker.

Sometimes I still reach for the phone and dial my mom just needing to talk about nothing.

Days are long in Coronaville…extra time to ruminate.

You are on my shoulder and in my heart…always?