Christmas At My Mama's House

Hot steamy mashed potatoes dripping with blond gravy, My mouth waters as I dip a spoon into mama’s peppered corn casserole, a magical phenomenon that no one else has been able to duplicate even with a recipe. How had I missed the mountain of sweet potatoes languishing in brown sugar sauce, with a marshmallow topping? I give myself a couple of liberal helpings. I smile at the delectable homemade roll, which is glistening with melted butter. Diets can start another day. Not today. Maybe after all of the leftovers are gone, but not a second before every single piece of homemade fudge is devoured. Raspberry cobbler heated up with a glob of icy cold vanilla ice cream or creamy chocolate cake with seven-minute frosting? Is that pumpkin pie with real whipped cream? There are perhaps better ways to die, but I can think of none of them. Christmas at Mama’s house; be still my heart.