In the kitchen by her side
she taught me lessons about life.
Instilled lessons for me to abide by,
all while her hands were rolling out
cookies, cakes, and pecan pie.
Her kitchen is where we spent
a significant portion of our lives.
In her kitchen, the family would meet
to sneak midnight snacks or share in a holiday feast.
The aroma was oh so sweet.
She never looked at recipes.
Just a sprinkle here and a dash of this.
Every meal she made tasted of pure bliss.
Each dish was made with love.
The first bite always felt a welcoming hug.
Her food was an extension of who she was.
She was a haven for her family to turn.
She was a person in whom we found comfort.
A person in whom we found peace.
Sharing stories of their day and making lasting memories.
In her kitchen is where we wanted to be.
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