Cooking with the soul

“Once Searcie (my Bigmama always called my Paw-Paw by his last name) got to pottin’ around in that kitchen… shit, I couldn’t fool with him, I’d just sat my tail down somewhere and let him work. His Momma, made sure him and his brother, Horace your Uncle… that they knew how to cook and take care of themselves, so they didn’t have to depend on no gal…” and with that she started laughing, pulling me in with a shared giggle as we sat at the table in the kitchen, where I learned some of the most powerful lessons of humanity.

Sometimes we ate, sipped coffee, watched the shows, but it was poetry in the stories that she was always cooking… that food for the soul.

The winding roots…

Published by Shun P. Writes

Author, Genealogist, Writer, Poet, Podcast Host, possessor of 2 cents, Blogger and eternal student of life, who harbors a firm belief in his Grandmother's mantra that: "People need to get off of their rump and do something". All while keeping in mind that a cheering section will often get in the way. View all posts by Shun P. Writes