For The Flour On The Counter

Mom, I still think about the kitchen when you were making chicken and dumplings, with flour spread across the granite counters and paper football somehow showing up right in the middle of dinner coming together.

When I was a kid, I probably just knew it felt good to be there. Now I understand more of what you were giving me. You made home feel warm and playful at the same time, like being cared for did not have to be heavy or serious to be real.

I hope today brings you a little comfort and steadiness as you keep recovering. I love you very much, Mom.