Monday, September 29, 2014

It's funny how  small things can make you think back about a memory in you past. This is what happened to me this morning. I was having a sweet tooth fit and there was absolutely nothing in the pantry to help me out.  I thought about how Mama would make me cinnamon toast after school for a snack.  I don't know why we continued to call it cinnamon toast because she would leave the cinnamon off for me. I didn't like cinnamon in my childhood years. She would place several pieces of toast all in the long pan and then create her magic. She would dab on butter, sugar and then the vanilla flavoring. I can still see her holding the top of the vanilla flavoring bottle in her hand with one finger over the opened top letting out just enough flavoring to make it good, but not soggy. She didn't have to use a spoon to make sure she got enough on because she was my mama, the creator of all things tasty and good. Then she would place the pan of  slice bread inside the oven just enough to toast it a light brown. When she opened the door of the oven the aroma would fill the entire kitchen with a sweet smell that made me feel all warm, happy and content. The cinnamon toast didn't last long with daddy and my sisters. Mama would always wait until everyone got the amount they wanted and then she would pick her a  warm piece of  cinnamon toast and enjoy it with her cup of coffee. After making mine this morning, I realized you can never duplicate childhood memories no matter how hard you try. Mine came out of the oven  smelling  and looking like Mama's but it didn't taste like  hers. I sat eating my cinnamon toast trying  hard to relive the time in mama's kitchen feeling the love she had for me. That was easy, but the taste left me empty. I finally broke the toast into small pieces and tossed it to the birds. They seem to enjoy my cinnamon toast without the cinnamon. I have decided not to try to duplicate any of mama's recipes again. Mama had a way of making everything she did whether it was cooking , sewing or putting a bandage on our skinned knee feel magical to us.  All this takes a special person and that is what Mama was to me and everyone that knew her.  Thank you God for letting me still hold on and remember special moments in my life.