By Tom Rodriguez
Growing up my Mother’s kitchen
Always smelled of baking pies
That wafted through
Our small five room house
Waking up each morning
Was always so much fun
To rise and see what pies
Were baking in her oven
Sweet smells of cinnamon and
Cloves, ginger and nutmeg
Of apples, peaches and cherries
Bananas, pecans and pumpkin pies
On the dining table each morning
Was a tidy table set for five
Eggs and bacon, a meal to start the day
That always ended with a piece of pie
Noon brought us home from school
For lunch, a bowl of Caldo de Rez
Steaming hot and simmering
With warm tortillas and sweet butter
But dinner was always best
Sharp aromas wafting from her kitchen
Of cumin, anise, garlic and onions
And Mexican oregano and cilantro
Meals of rice and beans, avocados
And limes, and sometimes chicken
Other times roast beef
And always warm tortillas and pie
But my fondest memories
Are of sharing all of those meals
With Mom and Dad
And the brothers three
Those are the days
That I remember most
When my thoughts drift back
To how it once was
In my Mother’s Kitchen
