The Magic in My Mom's Hand

I am a very food person,

Reason is the magic hand of my mom.

According to me she was the only best chef

In my home, in my locality and in the world.

In my childhood,

I used to ask my mother;

How could you cook so delicious ?

Is there any magic in your hand ?

What's the secret ?

She would smile and gently say,

I cook food with lots of lots of love and care.

As a child, I could never understood,

The meaning of those gentle words.

After school, after tuition, after playground

I would run to home

To see what is today in lunch and in dinner

For me home means just two things;

First my mom, second my mom's food

Whenever there is Christmas,

Whenever there is thanksgiving,

Whenever there are guest at home,

Mom would prepared food with perfect plating

And full of her new recipes.

I can never forget the taste of her fresh and spongy cakes

Made by her on my birthdays.

There would be noise and laughter

Singing ' Happy Birthday ' for me.

Our kitchen would be fulled with loads of love.

Now it was finally time,

To bid my home goodbye.

I used to terribly miss my home.

I wanted to run away and go home.

I want to be in my mom's arm.

But slowly slowly, I learned

My education and my career is too important.

No one in California,

Could beat my mom's food

No food taste good or similar to my mom's food

The best food in the world is homemade mom's food.

Whenever I was free from my busy schedule or

Whenever I used to sit at canteen,

I used to stare food for half of an hour

And think about my home, my mom's health and her delectable food

Then I would begin eating.

I wasn't home since seven years,

Due to my education and job stuff.

Finally I was leaving for my hometown

During the way to home,

I was excited to meet my home.

When I reached home,

I hugged my mom so tight.

The rhythm of her heart beat in my chest.

Is the best music of my life.

Mom ! is that the smell of pasta !

As soon as I saw the food,

Well decorated in the kitchen and dinning table

I could not stop myself from eating her luscious food.

Barefoot in the sand,

Feeling cool breeze

Holding my mom's hand,

Looking at each other,

Smiling, giggling and gossiping

Spending the best days of my life with my mom.

I sat in corner of dark room, silently thinking,

I am not going to California

I will stay here, do job

I don't want to be away from home

Home means just two things to me;

First my mom, second mom's food