Sweatpants & Soul | Hungering

Mom cooked, three times a day. I use the term “cook” loosely. She prepared meals. Dad died when I was seven years old. Before his death, our family consisted of Dad, my baby sister, Mom and me. She cooked everything we ate, even though it wasn’t her forte. Even though Mom’s primary seasonings were bacon grease and/or vinegar, the time we spent at the table created lasting memories for me. Dad threw his head back and laughed out loud at something Mom said, or I did, at every meal. As long as he was alive I knew I was … Continue reading Sweatpants & Soul | Hungering