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 

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I didn’t know then

What a simple pot pie would mean to me now 

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I didn’t know before

The warmth of this pot pie 

Would also bring warmth to my heart 

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Remembrance of the family I lost

The time we had together 

The aroma of laughter 

And a stomach full of stability and peace 

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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 movie dates 

Of karate class

When she would cheer me on from the side lines hoping I would eventually throw a punch

Of the leotards for gymnastics 

Of the cartwheels I couldn’t do

Of the long sushi lunch

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It all reminds me of her

Of my little hand in hers 

Of our chubby fingers 

And our chubby toes 

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Laughing about the little things that only her and I know

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Pot pies remind me a lot of my mother 

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When she would call us in for dinner 

Dance her way around 

With hugs strong enough to smother

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When she would sit us all down 

Sing her way to the freezer

And then surprise us with dessert

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Neversilencethemadness.com 

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