I miss Sunday dinners with my momma, roast, mashed potatoes and sweet tea

My momma died 8 years ago with breast cancer. She always made a wonderful Sunday dinner. We would go to church, listen to my dad preach and then walk home to smell the food cooking as we stepped unto the front porch. Always it tasted great and the dessert was some type of cobbler with fresh fruit and homemade crust. I did not realize what I had growing up until now. I did not realize the effort, the work, the planning, and the love required to have a Sunday dinner. On Sundays after my family has attended church I am humbled as I think about what my momma was. I am humbled to remember the smells, the china, the food, the sweet tea and the fellowship we shared. I've tried to make the roast, fry the chicken, stir the gravy and roll out the biscuits, but something is missing. An ingredient that cannot be purchased at the grocery or found in a recipe. It is the love of a woman, who sacrificed daily. A woman who enjoyed cooking and doing for others. a woman who could whip up a meal quicker than most t.v. dinners could be microwaved. It was simple. It was the same. It was gift of Sunday dinners that could not be replaced with eating out. It was home. I am going to keep trying. I'll find the right recipe, afterall, I knew the chef.