Happy Mother's Day

Is there a moment that defines your childhood with your mother?

My flash nonfiction piece, Frozen Concentrate, appears today in Literary Mama. This short essay was inspired by a writing prompt from Brevity Magazine about mystery and memory. The prompt got me thinking about split-second memories from my childhood and my mother's orange juice making rose to the top.

Making orange juice from concentrate was, the way my mother did it, an overwhelmingly complicated task. She never defrosted it first, and had to run the can under hot water until steam rose above the white enamel sink in our rented townhouse.  Then she pried off the lid and sometimes let me lick the yellow slush. I remember its heady sweetness tinged with bitterness, a taste so intense I could never decide if I liked it or not.