Mama’s cook
My mother was always without makeup; I can't recall a time she wore a full face of it. Perhaps just a touch of lipstick and a dash of eyeshadow. Maybe that's why she always looked younger than her age, with fewer chemicals aging her skin.
Today, I saw her with a bright face, lines of gray hair now mingling with her once-youthful features. She smiled and beckoned me in with her hand. Up since 4 a.m., she had been cooking for all of us. Oh, Ma!
Chicken curry - a Dalca, rich flavor as usual!
Arab rice with special spice - it’s her new menu
Crisp salad - never not we have this on our table growing up
There's something so comforting about a ma’s cooking. It's more than just food; it's an embrace of nostalgia, an expression of love, and a keeper of cherished family ritual.
It’s like having her hug in a wholesome plate.
Every bite, whilst hearing her voice bossing my sister around to ensure the table are filled with food brings back memories of home, the warmth of family gatherings, and the simple joy of being cared for.
These meals, lovingly prepared, nourish not just the body but the soul, reminding us of the bonds that connect us and how it that shape us.
That’s my mama.
Happy Eid-Adha, all!
Like reading Scribing Moments? Consider to tip me a coffee via Ko-fi!
You can also explore my favourite bookish accessories and more on my curated shopping list on 🛒 Products I love!
Your support fuels my creative endeavors (at no extra cost to you!). Many thanks!
