Today’s poem was inspired by the errand I ran, in preparation for family Easter traditions. The poem explains it all, hope you enjoy!

Sausage Links

It’s a few days before Easter.
The kids will be coming for brunch.
I head downtown to Kramarczuk’s,
the Eastern European deli my relatives
have always worshipped. Both sides
of my family are Polish, and sausage
is a requirement for every holiday.
Not just any sausage: these long,
smoky, garlicky links, hand-made,
authentic Old World, a savory splurge. 

We are not alone in this tradition.
Eager crowds fill the shop, abuzz with
anticipation, smiles and camaraderie.
We are in this sensory ritual together,
hungry souls seeking salivation. We take
a ticket for service, sometimes share
moments of memories, wait patiently
at glass counters for meat or bakery treats.
I’m frugal today, just my sausage, egg bread,
and kolachi, ignoring the European chocolates,
cheeses, condiments. Another day!

I do not know why sausage is such a tradition
among my people. All cultures have their
own special foods– it’s how we celebrate
and keep community strong. All I know is
I can scroll back in my mind and remember
all the feast-laden tables I sat at in my life,
all the family members gathering, young and
old, many long gone but still alive in my dreams.
Sure, sausage links us together, along with
history and heritage and love. Special foods,
special days, remind us to prioritize
our meaningful connections,
savor these moments shared, and
make memories while we can.

Scene inside Kramarczuk’s

Check out Kramarczuk’s online!
Photos by me, from years past.