It was her own personal tradition.
My mother had a special breakfast that she enjoyed
once a year.
Most years, she enjoyed it alone.
Sometimes my father or sister or I would stop by and
she would offer us a bite or two.
She was happy to share her tradition.
Mom’s in her nineties and doesn’t cook much anymore,
but her culinary skills of days gone by were legendary in our family and
community.
On Christmas Day in the
morning, while some slept late, some read the paper and others enjoyed the
fruits of Santa’s labor, my mother was in the kitchen.
She was at the stove
and the aroma filled the house.
Homemade
cornbread produced a unique stimulation to the olfactory nerves.
While the
cornbread was still hot, she was melting cheese on a griddle.
Mom’s Christmas
breakfast was melted cheese on freshly baked corn bread.
It always got
Christmas off to a good start.
Image credit: Wikicommons
Maybe I’ll have some
this morning.




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