It’s funny when I talk to people and when they ask me where I’m heading , in reference to my parents house , I always respond I’m going home. Rarely do I say I’m headed to my “parents house” My current residence is in Los Angeles but meals like this make me feel like home. I’m not to bad in the kitchen myself but nothing touches my mom’s home cooking .

Seeing my pops today for Father’s Day also reminded me of why wherever he is at will always be considered home; it’s the safety and the comfort . Sitting on the couch talking with my dad reminds me of a familiarity that no amount of furniture and pictures can ever replicate . Our relationship is built of 30 years   Of Spoken and unspoken communication. Hugs and kisses, fights and arguments. Words of wisdom and counsel that I will never forget . This spread of food will forever remind me of home, because my dad likes it . Not necessarily the food itself , but the fact that he played a part in the provision . That’s always how he has been. He’ll pray, eat a little and just watch the table . It’s those eyes watching over me that bring a comfort . It’s that voice on that phone that fortifies my backbone when trials seem to be too much. It’s what I aspire to be one day. The man at the head of the table just watching . Enjoying the food that God has provided, but enjoying just a little more the satisfaction that I was privileged enough to Enjoy it with my family .  Eat up pops; we’re okay . We’re home .   
Happy Father’s Day Dad . I love you the only a first born son can love his dad after 30 years . Unconditionally and with pride .


About Literarydimes

This blog is a reflection of me. My random thoughts and current happenings. Enjoy. Engage. React.
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