As I sit here on my lunch break at work tonight
I dig into the first pot pie I’ve had in years
Daydream of my childhood
When my mom would make pot pies for dinner
When we had blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream for a treat
.
.
I didn’t know then
What a simple pot pie would mean to me now
.
.
I didn’t know before
The warmth of this pot pie
Would also bring warmth to my heart
.
.
Remembrance of the family I lost
The time we had together
The aroma of laughter
And a stomach full of stability and peace
.
.
Pot pies, apparently remind me of my mother
Of the days when she was my mommy
Of the long evenings playing in the backyard
Of the living room workouts
Of the halloween costumes that she would make from scratch
Of the…
View original post 135 more words
