Grandma's Kitchen

Every winter, my family visits my grandma in a small town.

Her kitchen is warm and full of good smells.

She always cooks a special soup with tomatoes and beef.

When I taste it, I feel like I am five years old again.

My mother says the soup tastes like her own childhood too.

Grandma never writes down the recipe.

She says her hands remember what to do.

Last week, I tried to make the soup in my city apartment.

It was not the same, because the tomatoes were different.

Now I understand why Grandma's soup means home to us.