I remember an overcast day walking home from school
the rain had washed earth clean the ditches were running full
and crawdads were swimming away
I wanted to hurry home so I could go play
in the sweet wet dirt to dig a moat
and tie fatty bacon to a string to coax
the mudbugs to come my way
as I stepped through the door
The scent of rich chicken broth
simmering delightfully on the stove
filling the air with thyme and sage
and my heart knew I was home
So today I’m once again a child,
tugging at mother’s apron
of whatever she is chopping
She gives me a bite of celery
And a teensy bit of raw potato
no more, or you’ll get worms!
I’m wrapped in her mommy scent
and the smell of her mingling
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Author’s Note: When I was young, my mother would only give me a small piece of raw potato; she told me I would get worms if she gave me more! Today, I know not to eat raw potato because it can cause stomach distress due to bacteria.
Photo Courtesy of: My lovely daughter Tracy Villalobos.
The link is to the chicken soup I taught her how to make.