Sometimes my senses get the best of me. The smallest thing, a song, a scent, a taste, or a familiar sight, can reach into my heart and gently pull me back to moments I thought were tucked away long ago.
I imagine most of us know exactly what that feels like.
A favorite old song comes on the radio while you’re stuck in traffic, and suddenly you’re no longer in your car. You’re back with childhood friends, laughing until your sides hurt. Or perhaps an elderly lady walks past wearing the same gardenia perfume your grandmother always wore. In an instant, you’re wrapped in memories of her, memories so vivid you can almost hear her voice and feel her embrace.
For me, sometimes it’s the sight of a vintage truck, one like my granddaddy used to drive. I still remember the rusty dent in the tailgate that he was certain nobody noticed. Other times it’s the taste of hot apple crisp, just like Mamaw used to make especially for me. Those simple things have an amazing way of carrying me back to a time when life felt slower, sweeter, and a little less complicated.
My mother left this earth twelve years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. Some days the memories bring comfort. Other days they bring an ache so deep it feels as if part of my heart is still searching for her. Lately, that ache has been stronger than usual.
I’ve found myself missing everything about her: her voice on the telephone, her laughter from the next room, the way she always knew exactly what to say, and the meals she lovingly placed on our table. Those meals were more than food. They were comfort, family, belonging, and love served on a plate. As I sat thinking about those precious days gathered around the supper table, I decided to recreate one of the meals my mother and grandmother were famous for making: smothered steak with brown onion gravy, creamed potatoes, salad, and fresh rolls. I wanted everything to be just as I remembered it.
I gathered the ingredients and began cooking. At first, it felt like any other meal preparation. But then the steak hit the hot oil.
As it sizzled and browned, a familiar aroma drifted through the kitchen. Within seconds, I was overcome with emotion. The tears started before I even realized they were coming. Standing there among the boiling potatoes and the scent of browning steak, I could almost feel my mother beside me. Not because she was there, but because the memory of her love filled every corner of that kitchen. For a moment, the years between us didn’t seem quite so far apart.
That smell carried me back to family dinners, shared laughter, and a mother’s unconditional love. It reminded me that while time moves forward, love never truly leaves us. It simply finds new ways to reach our hearts.
As I wiped away my tears, I found myself thanking God for something I had never fully appreciated before. He created us with the ability to see, hear, smell, and taste, and through those gifts He gave us a beautiful way to hold on to the people we love. We cannot go back and relive yesterday, nor can we sit down once more with those who have already gone home. But God, in His wisdom, gave us senses that awaken treasured memories when we need them most.
A song can bring back laughter. A perfume can bring back a grandmother’s embrace. The smell of steak frying in a skillet can bring a daughter close to her mother once again.
And for that, I am grateful.
Because even after all these years, the love of my Momma still finds its way back to me. Sometimes it arrives in a memory. Sometimes in a tear. And sometimes, it rises from a skillet in the form of smothered steak.
From My Heart 