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.
Spring needs to hurry up.
ReplyDelete:) Made me smile.
ReplyDeleteI'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. :)
ReplyDeleteThe littlest things is sometimes where the strongest connection lies.
ReplyDeleteLife & Faith in Caneyhead
I feel the same way. Counting the days until spring arrives! February is the worst :(
ReplyDeleteI miss the spring!! I love this by the way
ReplyDeleteSweet. I miss spring, too, and I usually like winter. I find myself more like my father and mother with every passing year.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a great post. I agree spring coming soon would be nice.
ReplyDeleteSuch a sweet post!!
ReplyDelete