You made me cry with this poem, Eric!!! I imagined my mother preparing the food, me, little girl, watching her kneading, spreading, chopping. Before my eyes my mother was making magic. I would be licking my lips with pleasure at everything she made and she would smile as she watched me eat all the food. Now I am the one who cooks for her....
Time is passing and I really want it to stop, not to keep moving so fast. My father died and I don't want to think if I would miss my mother.... Parents should be eternal. The only consolation we have is that in life, we all show them the love we have for them and that our gratitude is infinite. Accompany our parents, even if it is in the distance and treasure many memories.
Thank you, thank you very much for those words. Hugs, my friend
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Oh no! I'm sorry it made you cry. It seems like we had similar childhoods. As I was writing this it's almost as though I was transported back to 1975 to the house I grew up in on 586 Elizabeth Ave in Columbus, OH. I'm actually planning a trip back home and asked my mom if she'd make the dish for me, this is what inspired the poem.
Time is passing way too quickly. It's hard being 800 miles away from her and only seeing her a few times a year (although I'm grateful I get to do that). I see so many changes between visits. We always try to "make up for lost time" and I think that makes the time go even faster. Nevertheless, we try to make the most of it with each visit.
You're welcome, Nancy! I hope you're enjoying your weekend!