I walk into the house after a long hockey practice
So hungry I can eat a horse
I can hear the crackle of the peanut oil
As my mom drenches the chicken into a bath of egg and breadcrumb I can smell the southern hospitality
The chicken is plated on mashed potatoes and a side of collard greens
I ask myself: Is this what heaven looks like?
I cut through I can feel the freshness of the chicken through my fork
As I dig in I can taste the memories had with my grandmother as we eat this chicken on summer evenings in North Carolina