The old adage is still true today: you are what you eat...no longer eating those neck bones. But more than the food, I miss the people. I miss just being there when my grandmother made the cornbread, because the cornbread was never made without the stimulating conversation. Yes, the food was baked, roasted, fried, and sautéed that but we toasted one another with our presence. I really miss that part the most. I can't buy that at Publix and bring it home. The color of joy is Thanksgiving in Charleston. On really tough days, I close my eyes and transport myself back to that time.
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