And with every bite I'm transported back to that red brick house with the sunny breakfast nook. I'm sitting at that old, round, formica table, tearing up homemade tortillas and filling them with the best Spanish rice and beans you've ever tasted. Each bite a bit of heaven in your mouth...
And I can see my grandparent's faces... and listen to Grandpa laughing and telling stories.... And Grandma is there too with that smile that lights up our world. We're watching the birds and squirrels quarrel and play outside the window... and we make plans to garden later... but first Grandpa takes a nap in front of the t.v., blaring old westerns that put me to sleep as well.
I miss them... sometimes more than I'm even aware of... It's times like this that I want to go back to those days. To see my grandparents alive, healthy, and thriving... To hold my grandfather's work-worn hand... To kiss my Grandma's smooth, soft cheek... To just sit in their presence and feel their love... To tell them one more time that I love them...
Some day, I know I'll see them again... but until that day, a simple meal like rice and beans will be my reminder of the loving people they were and my childhood with them...
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