When Everything Was Possible
Reminiscing about his childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, my friend Larry said, "Back then, everything was possible." That wistful statement resonated far beyond its context. Back then—however far back you want to plant that bright flag of possibility in your or the nation's history—we were innocent, hopeful, and not so tired. But the past few weeks have reminded me that the present is always rich with possibilities. Life can turn on a dime. I'll write more about all that later, Lord willin' and the creeks don't rise.
Today I'm sharing a special guest post by Larry with memories of his mom's cooking. It made me smile and feel wistful for someone else's childhood, as a good story magically can do. I hope you'll give it a read.
Momma’s Thicknin’ Gravy
It sizzled the moment it touched the iron, filling the little kitchen with the smell of salt-cured pork and hardwood smoke. I was probably no more than six or seven years old, but I already knew what came next. Thicknin’ gravy.
Larry Eades