My Five Senses
MY FIVE SENSES
In bygone days, when I was but a lad of six, I can vividly recall the smell of fresh homemade biscuits baked in a wood burning stove. As we all gathered around the breakfast table, we all bowed our heads and Pa -- as we called our loving Daddy, would say the Blessing. The warmth of the kitchen, especially on cold mornings, was always a welcome feeling. We would all take a biscuit, still hot from the oven, slather it with freshly churned butter, pour homemade Georgia cane syrup on it and feel like we had died and gone to Heaven. Unless you have never been privy to this experience, you will not be able to feel about it as I do. But the touch, smell, and taste of those biscuits brings back memories that cause me to envision Ma -- as we called our loving Mama, sitting at her place at the table smiling proudly as we literally devoured every single biscuit before heading out to do chores before the school bus came. All of this took place after we heard the rooster crowing to announce the coming sunrise. Even now, after all the years that have passed, Ma, Pa, and our younger brother are deceased but both my sisters and I still recall, with a mingling of laughter and tears the joy we shared so many years ago.
25 July 2018
For the contest sponsored by Viv Wigley
Copyright © Curtis Moorman | Year Posted 2018
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