I wish I could incorporate smells into these words. Yesterday I cooked a roast. There was no recipe, just the focus on what was needed – meat, potatoes, vegetables. Such aromatic odors floated through the house. It reminded me of all the Sunday dinners we had growing up. Whether it was beef or chicken or ham, it was good food surrounded with love. Our hard-working family was never hungry. Nothing fancy, but always nourishing. As we sat down together, each of us was taken care of with food for the stomach and the soul. I have no memories of arguments at the table, just lots of sharing. Sundays were also the day to go visit the cousins and grandparents in the afternoon. Together we might all go sledding, or apple picking, or blueberry picking. It didn’t matter what we did, we were together.