I miss this kitchen, and every meal that came from it.
I miss the hands that prepared those meals with love.
I miss the aroma of yeast on Saturday mornings as she prepared her light, fluffy yeast rolls (we never had biscuits).
I miss the voice, the humming that provided the soundtrack of my childhood.
These thoughts are therapy for me, peaceful escapes to priceless memories
I will always cherish. All this took place in a kitchen, in a house, on a hill, on the south side of Lexington TN. I love you Dorothy M. Johnson!
My maternal grandmother wouldn’t let me take one bite from that kitchen without giving thanks to God. She introduced me to true worship.
2 Timothy 1:5 (NKJV)
5 when I call to remembrance the [a]genuine faith that is in you, which dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and I am persuaded is in you also.