The thought always looms in the air
Because I always search for food.
It ceases to leave my body.
Deciding whether to
Eat sweets or more savory items.
Food fuels my desires
Good food, my mom’s food
Has a special place in my heart.
I can never remember when I first ate it,
Just that it has always been good
The aroma that lingers in the kitchen,
It welcomes me when I walk in.
Whether it’s boiling away on top of the stove,
Or roasting inside of the oven.
No cookbooks lay on the counter.
Only a small folder of lined paper
Filled with lines of tiny script
And stains that have stood the test of time.
Knowing that it came from my grandma,
Leaves me in tears, because of the
Memories.
Never fading,
Arching over my head,
Providing me with a mixture of emotions.
In small-town diners,
With their home-style food,
I feel the presence
Of happiness.
Quite often, I find my self
Remembering her banana pudding, the taste
Still lingers in my mouth.
Wanting more, I order
The expensive dessert
Hoping for one last taste
But the things I eat now
Underwhelm me, to the point of me
Leaving the bowl untouched
The artificial flavor radiates off the bowl
And into my face.
It floats around and traps me
While I remember how good things used to be