By April. I made it to April. One month and two weeks since Earl died, and I am standing in my kitchen and I am cooking and I am alive, and some days that feels like triumph and some days it feels like betrayal — like being alive is something I'm doing to Earl by continuing without him.
Denise sat me down this week. She does that — sits me down with tea and a serious face and says the things nobody else will say. She said, "Mama, we need to talk about the house." I knew what she meant. The Thunderbolt house is old. It has stairs. My knees are bad. Earl did the maintenance — the gutters, the yard, the things that a house needs to stay a house. Without Earl, the house is just a building with memories and a woman who can't reach the gutters.
I said, "I am not leaving this house." Denise said, "I'm not asking you to leave. I'm asking you to let us help." Robert — Denise's husband — has been coming over weekends to do the things Earl used to do. Mowing the lawn. Fixing the screen door. Checking the AC unit. He does it quietly, the way Robert does everything, and he never says, "Earl used to do this." He just does it. That man married my daughter and he got the whole Henderson package, and he has never once complained.
I went to Earl's grave on Saturday. Bonaventure Cemetery, under the live oak. I brought fresh flowers — not pink carnations, those are for Valentine's Day, but yellow roses, because yellow was Michael's color and now Michael and Earl share it. I sat on the bench beside the headstone and I talked to him. I told him about the garden. I told him the tomatoes are coming up. I told him Amara is getting big — Marcus sends photos, and she has Earl Jr.'s eyes, which means she has Earl's eyes. I told him I'm cooking again. I told him the grits still miss him.
A woman walked by while I was talking. She paused, and then she said, "You visiting someone?" I said, "My husband." She said, "How long?" I said, "Forty-three years." She said, "That's a lot of love." I said, "It's not enough. It's never enough."
Made collard greens this week. Three hours. Ham hock. Vinegar. The way they're supposed to be made. I ate them at the table with cornbread and I set Earl's plate across from me and I ate in the company of his absence, which is still a kind of company.
Now go on and feed somebody.
I told Earl at the cemetery that the grits still miss him, and I meant it — he used to say mine were too thick, then eat two bowls anyway. I’ve been making them in the slow cooker lately because I don’t have the energy to stand and stir, and it turns out low and slow suits my grief just fine. These are the grits I made the morning after I sat across from his empty chair with the collard greens — something warm to start the next day with, because the next day keeps coming whether you’re ready or not.
Crock-Pot Grits
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 6–8 hours (low) | Total Time: Up to 8 hours | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 cup stone-ground grits (not instant)
- 4 cups water
- 1 cup whole milk
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1/2 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese (optional, for serving)
- Additional butter or cream, to taste
Instructions
- Combine in the slow cooker. Add the stone-ground grits, water, milk, salt, and black pepper to a 4-quart or larger slow cooker. Stir well to combine.
- Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 6 to 8 hours, or until the grits are thick, creamy, and tender. Stir once or twice during cooking if you happen to be nearby — but it’s fine if you can’t.
- Finish and season. Stir in the butter until melted and fully incorporated. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. If the grits have thickened more than you like, stir in a splash of warm water or milk to loosen them.
- Serve warm. Spoon into bowls and top with shredded cheddar, an extra pat of butter, or a drizzle of cream if desired. Serve alongside eggs, collard greens, or simply on their own with cornbread.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 180 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 25g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 420mg