“Faintly simmering and being beckoned.”


I stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching my mother cooking and preparing the Thanksgiving dinner as I drooled with excitement wanting to sneak a lick of the bowls she recently mixed the german chocolate cake and its accompanying frosting. Although the aromas of faintly simmering pots filled with potatoes, assorted greens, and the infamous gravy sit on the stove. The crown jewel smell … Continue reading “Faintly simmering and being beckoned.”