With work, school, and "me time," I haven't been in the kitchen that often. Nonetheless, this night, I was reintroduce to my first love. I remember what it is to cook, eat, and know without a doubt that everything was prepared with care.
I remember leftovers; I've missed leftovers. I have leftovers a.k.a. lunch for tomorrow.
I've missed the apartment filled aroma, of baked chicken, sauteed veggies, and brown rice.
When we count the hours of the day, we sometimes forget the small things that matter the most. I was granted peace within self, in a piping hot kitchen.
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