My siblings and I were some of the first kids to get on the bus in the morning and the last to get off in the afternoon. Because our home was located on the outer edges of the school zoning area, our trip was long, and we couldn’t wait to get off of the hot, bumpy bus ride at home.

Mr. Bouillion, our bus driver, dropped us off at the end of our long gravel driveway, and we walked up the slight hill to our old Acadian home on the farm. After a lengthy day at school and that ride home, we were usually hungry.

At about 200 feet away from the doorway, like a genie’s fingers pulling us in, the aromas of dinner drew us to the kitchen. On tonight’s menu was rice and gravy, I just knew it. There is no mistaking that delicious scent.

“Hey Momma, what are we having for supper tonight?” I asked an

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