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The smell, like steam,
rises to warm me.

It reminds me of helping mom
in the kitchen while growing up:
down-home cooking
for the evening meals;
home-baked goodies,
for nightly desserts.

As the smells intensify,
memories drift to
my own years of cooking
meals for my family, or
baking goodies like
Christmas cookies
and Birthday cakes.

Yet, this year, I’m not in a kitchen.
The delicious smells wafting through
the house are complements of a
retired husband with a passion
for trying new recipes, while I am
afforded the pleasure of writing
in my sanctuary.

And do you know what I’ve discovered?

I never knew I didn’t like to cook…
Until I didn’t.

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