Works by Zoe Perks

In this life I have been extremely blessed to have known both my grandparents and great-grandmothers. For my father’s parents, love is expressed over tea and scones. From the moment you step onto the slippery white tiles, whether friend or stranger, you are greeted with the warm smell of fresh homemade scones. The air is electric with love. It is seen in the dozens of family photos that decorate the house, the magnets from various cruises that fill the fridge doors, and the freshly picked roses from the outside bushes that have been tended to with gentle care. A circular glass table still sits in the back corner, surrounded by windows that look out onto a garden overflowing with greenery. The table still wears a lace tablecloth, dressed for any unexpected visitors that might stumble by.

After cheeks are stained with pink lipstick kisses, the table is set with glass bowls of cold cream and half full jars of strawberry and raspberry jam. Tea is served in china cups with floral designs, each with a matching saucer. As a little girl, cups of tea included milk and three heaped teaspoons of sugar that would make the drink inconsumable to most. A thick layer of sugary sludge would form at the bottom of the bone china teacup which I would dig out and consume with childish glee, much to the dissatisfaction of my parents.

On my mother’s side our love language is chocolate. I have fond memories of visiting my great-grandmother at a mere five years old and squeezing my bony fist into a jar filled with chocolates upon her request. She would fuss and always give my sister and I more than my mother suggested. My grandmother is famous for her chocolate cake, something that is now considered cursed to my mother. After finding the sweet in her school lunchbox every day for six years she now turns her nose up at it, feeling nauseous with the flood of memories from high school that the cake brings. Yet embedded in the chronicles of the chocolate cake is a tale of love and friendship, for she would exchange her cake for sandwiches or biscuits from her friends. In the realm of high school, an item such as chocolate cake was hot property in their games of lunchtime lotteries. Now it is a treat my grandmother brings me as a surprise before our weekly family dinners. The cake brings smiles, excited squeals of delight, and the tight hugs that smell heavily of rose perfume and make her hearing aids buzz in my ear when we pull away. It brings love.

Love languages

Writing this piece during 2020 was quite a therapeutic experience. In these difficult and uncertain times, I have been missing my extended family terribly. Family is everything to me, so not being able to see them every week has definitely been hard. Therefore, when asked to write a piece of non-fiction, writing about my family made sense. I endeavoured to capture the nuances of my family as if they were in the room with me, becoming a love letter and tribute to their memory.

Zoe Perks

‘Love Languages’ (2020)

Creative Non-Fiction