I am my Father's daughter

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The cold set in like an unwelcome visitor. Foreign to us all here in the South. I'd taken to a daily mornin' cup of coffee. I'd say it kept my soul revived but that'd be the simplest of responses. Even admittin' my daily habit wouldn't be enough. No, I am my Father's daughter, no matter the weather. He'd have a cup and so would I. The  older I become, the more likeness I find. No longer here to share is guidance. I find myself lookin'for him in the littlest of things. In my mornin' coffee.

In my bowl of Gumbo. The smell filled my nostrils as I walked through the front door. My bags dropped to the floor, as I rushed in the kitchen. There it sat waitin'. Waitn' as promised. A huge pot of Gumbo and a rice cooker full of rice. Well, maybe my family in the Southern Louisiana would say, "I know y'all shame, That ain't but a swallow." But to me, it was a sight. The gumbo warms my tired soul. The winter does that to you sometime. The settin, the kitchen, I grew accustomed to long since gone an outgrown. In it's place shiner and new. But, the warmth, love and taste remained the same.

Until we meet again spring.





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9 comments

  1. I've never had gumbo. I should look it up and see what it is. Spring's a long way off, at least up here in the north. :)

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  2. The littlest things is sometimes where the strongest connection lies.
    Life & Faith in Caneyhead

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  3. I feel the same way. Counting the days until spring arrives! February is the worst :(

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  4. I miss the spring!! I love this by the way

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  5. Sweet. I miss spring, too, and I usually like winter. I find myself more like my father and mother with every passing year.

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  6. This is such a great post. I agree spring coming soon would be nice.

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