Rhubarb and Ginger Jam

My grandad made rhubarb and ginger jam
in a tiny kitchen overlooking
a busy intersection and
a tower of flats that my dad totted up
from the comfort of Grandad’s armchair;
his pipes lined up along the windowsill.
50 floors if I remember rightly.
That was my landmark for years on the way
to work, to a new house, to meet my future
husband, to visit parents. I never stopped,
but I’d look across the busy roads
if waiting at the lights and
see the window of the tiny kitchen gleaming
where my grandad used to make rhubarb and ginger jam.

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