home cooking

I miss my mother's cooking.
her heavy handed
seasoning, salt and butter,
sugar when needed.
whole milk.
the red sauce with meat
on her spaghetti.
everything tasted fine.
you never left the table hungry,
despite there being seven
of you, that makes fourteen
hands and arms
reaching for what
was placed in the center.
I remember the sweat on her
brow as she sat at the head
of table,
saying grace with a smile.