One of my favorite memories of my mom was on an occasional cold Autumn evening. I would be in my room playing after dinner and I would smell the distinct warm, chocolately smell of my mom's homemade chocolate pudding. Secretly, I would do my excited "pudding-dance-of-joy" while I waited for her to call me out to have some. My mom and I would sit with the warm pudding and have the kinds of talks that you have when you feel completely warm and safe. My mom didn't know how much those evenings meant to me until just a few months ago when she came to visit me and my one year old son for Christmas.

-Donna Poco Smith