Free Who We Are by Samantha Marsh

after dinner. Mama brought in her recipe book. Her recipe book was a cherished possession. The book had been passed down through the generations in her family. It always went to the eldest daughter. Mama had said that some of the recipes were almost four hundred years old. It had been transcribed numerous times over the years as it became worn from use. The current copy was covered with thick, brown leather ornately decorated by little flowers and leaves etched right into the leather. A leather strap bound the book together when not in use. Mama told her that the one rule was that the old books were never discarded and whomever determined that it was time to re-copy had to vow not to change a single word. The goal was to maintain the integrity and authenticity of the recipes. It would be up to each user whether or not they altered the recipes to suit their own tastes when they used them. This particular copy had been recopied by Mama’s great-great-great-grandmother back in the 1950’s. Mama laid the book on her lap and proceeded to tell her daughter a story.
    “Desire, when I was a little girl, my Mama loved to cook and bake. She told me that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. My Papa loved my Mama dearly, and you could always see the excitement in his face when he came home from work. He couldn’t wait to see what she had prepared for dinner.
    My Papa often got himself into a little trouble in the community. He loved my Mama so much that his emotions often overwhelmed him in public. He would hug Mama and kiss her, right out in the open. He would hold my hand walking through town and chatter and laugh the whole time. My Papa, sadly, was an odd man out in this community. He had masterful skills, which is what I think helped him to avoid too much trouble. My Papa was a master carpenter and he designed some of the prettiest buildings and furniture in our community. He built all the latest furnishings for our church and hand-carved the designs.” Mama stopped for a minute. “In fact, Desire, I believe that my Papa worked with Johnny’s grandfather on his father’s side.”
                  Desire had heard these stories so many times, she could probably recite them herself, but Mama seemed to love talking about her parents.
    “Because my Mama could cook meals that were so heavenly, she was always in charge of community meals, church meals, and would often be called upon to mentor younger ladies to become good cooks for their husbands. Mama let me help with everything she did. Unfortunately, although I fancy myself a good cook and baker, I am nothing compared to my mother. She rarely had to open this book up because all the recipes were in her heart. She cooked with so much love you could taste it in her food. I found this book, wrapped in a lace doily in my Hope Chest.”
    Mama opened the front cover and ran her fingertips over the beautiful, curvy letters said that read, To my beautiful Faith, may you cook with love and live gracefully in God’s bounty. Forever the light of my heart. Love, Mama.
                  Every time Mama got to that part of the story, she got a little teary-eyed. Desire knew she missed her family dearly. When her Mama was 14 years old—Desire’s current age—a terrible tragedy took place in the community. Mama’s entire family had gathered at her grandparent’s house for Sunday dinner after church. Before the family sat down to eat, Mama had to take dinner over to the church for the Elders, who were having a meeting. While she was at the church preparing their food, a fire started in the kitchen of her grandparent’s home. It burned so quickly and fiercely that the house burned to the ground within minutes. Everyone inside perished. Desire couldn’t help but wonder how no one could get out of the house, but who was she to question. It was such a sad story. Poor Mama. Only 14 years old when she lost everyone that she loved. Without a home and without