Growing up mum said “Take me purse out and count the correct change.” while down town in Brixton market at the snapper happy fish market. Busy time, bun and cheese time, Easter holidays. “Hurry come we Rush, have to get back home to cook.”
Mummy directs me to roll her long lushous soft locks of hair in rollers, paint her nails, do her makeup place her Chandelier ear rings on , while pampering her, crying that I want to go with her to the club podium nite out. She would say “When you grow up one day. Don't worry l'll be back home soon” knowing l'll be fast sleep in mum's bed a comforter, until l'm carried back to my room, tucked in.
Weekend is here, barbecue party time. “Get seasoning, come help me gut the fish” l hide feeling so squeamish.
The sweet smells of Mum's barbecue feast calls me, the lingering whisper of fragrance touches my nose, a gentle reminder, ”Come now, come eat” coleslaw, potato salad, roast corn, snapper sides - in the mix my eyes glow up.
Them happy memories long for those times to be back, times were so much better then and everything foodie tasted better and ire.
Though we are separated each from one another in this universe but remain together in a heritage of memories my parents have left me happy thoughts of to well loved to ever be forgotten unreplaceable legacy.