Remembering my grandmother

I remembered myself as a young child and the precious time I spent with my grandmother in her kitchen. 

​I remembered the exquisiteness of being in the flow of creating scrumptious delicacies using many of recipes handed down from my great grandmother and great-great grandmother.  I remembered the smells, the sounds, the tastes, the colors, the textures. 

I remembered the gently patient and nurturing guidance from my grandmother.  I remembered what it felt like to gather the ingredients; to measure each one out and carefully place it in the waiting arms of the others. 

I remembered my excited anticipation of what would become; what would emerge from the warmth of the oven that was made from our pure love. 

I remembered being with the woman who taught me the art of being in the moment and breathing in every morsel of delight.