I remember the magickal smell of the yeast mixed with flour, poppy and sesame seeds at the ready, the kitchen so hot you were sweating, all waiting in anticipation for the big feast you would have later. It’s not the feast I remember. It is the time and effort, the love that my mom put into getting up early to start the turkey and make homemade rolls. A dozen poppy seed, a dozen sesame seed. It took way too long for the dough to rise only to be kneaded again, and placed back in the bowl with a kitchen towel covering it. The waiting once more began. Impatience took hold.
Now, I wish I could wake up in the morning and smell those familiar smells of Thanksgiving and see my mom kneading the dough for her poppy and sesame seed dinner rolls. I miss those days, but I am grateful. Grateful to have those memories of my mother in the kitchen making dinner with love for a family who didn’t know how to appreciate it. Now, I stand at the kitchen table prepping the turkey, homemade cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes with rolls. Trying to make loving memories as I cook dinner for my family, my mother, and still grateful for those cold, wintery days when the house smelled like fresh dinner rolls and turkey.
Be grateful for the memories you have. Hold on to them as they are precious and cannot be taken away from you. Remember the good in others.