Gaboo is Love

Why is it that food triggers such memories and emotions? Sometimes it’s just the smell of it and I am taken back to my days as a child, running barefoot around the house. We were by no means rich in the sense of possessions; it was love that our house ran on.

When the money would start running out, that’s when Mom and all of her creative survival skills would shine their brightest. Gaboo being one of my favorites back then. It would vary sometimes depending on what we had in the cabinets but in general it was still noodles and spaghetti sauce.  Noodles are a relative word that I use because it could be a straight spaghetti noodle, elbow or even an egg noodle. The sauce itself would vary depending on what was on sale or even sometimes would be a homemade rendition.

Along side our homemade memories would be a form of garlic bread. Normally regular sliced bread with a dousing of garlic salt and butter placed under the broiler until crisp. Depending on who made the garlic bread, it was either not enough or way too much. Either way it was still delicious every time.

We’re having gaboo tonight, not because it’s what left but because it’s what’s good. My memories have been awakened only by the scent lingering into my room. I don’t know if garlic bread will be a part of it just yet but I am hopeful. It’s dinners like this that make me feel loved all over again.


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About meinaboxblog

I like to think I'm a normal everyday woman but my mind tells me otherwise. I fight my battles and post them here. I don't tell my family and real life friends that I write here. This is my own little way of having "someone" to talk to. My own little therapy session if you will. I welcome comments and opinions but I have enough negativity to last a lifetime already . My world is changing and now more than ever I need support and encouragement but I'm still too afraid to let anyone know that it's me writing here.