I went home this week. Well, not exactly my home but the one that belonged to my mom until she up and moved to heaven. It had been nearly two years since her death and this would be the first time I would be back in a place that had always included her presence. I wasn’t really sure what feelings would be stirred up within me.
Stepping through the door, I realized things had not changed in her absence. My sister now takes Mom’s place in the kitchen where so many celebration meals have been prepared. From the look of the counter, the tradition carried on. It was covered with good things to eat. Luscious flatbreads, pans of lasagna and that green pudding with its bits of pineapple and pistachios were all present as they had been in the past. Additional yumminess arrived. Aunt Sarah’s Cheesy Potatoes, Breaded Morel Mushrooms, compliments of my brothers, and my own cake slathered with Browned Butter Frosting rounded out the already abundant selection.
We filled our plates and ate and talked and talked and talked. It was all very comforting to sit around the table and enjoy each other’s company. For the moment, it all felt very normal as if no one was missing from the circle. I guess in a way everyone was accounted for. Even though Mom was not physically with us, her heart had stayed behind. The spirit of the day made that evident. It was exactly as she would have planned it. I will hold the memory close as one of the best.
Where we love is home–home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
I asked my sister, Jeannie, to send me the recipes she cooked up for our visit. I left them in the form they were sent. I like that it is less formal and more like the way we would tell someone how to prepare the dish.
The following are the recipes for the bread, green pudding and the peanut butter cookies. The lasagna is just your basic recipe but she says she always uses Prego.
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Thanks for sharing that quote … and the recipes with us here at The Loft today.
I’m so glad to hear that your first visit back to your homeplace was joyous. Mine was not. My Dad died in 1997 and I still remember the first time I came back “home” after his passing. Heartbreaking. Though I’ve gotten somewhat more accustomed to it over the years, it is never the same. Thanks for your generous spirit! The recipes look wonderful!
I’m sorry to hear it was so heartbreaking. There is not a day that goes by I think I need to give Mom a call and tell her. . . I’ve adapted, but it’s not always easy. I often wonder if my mom felt the same about her mother. I know when it was time for her to go to heaven, she said she could wait to see her mother. It’s a comfort to know they are together and someday I will get tojoin them.
Thanks for stopping by, Gena. Enjoy the recipes.