This I Believe Essay
Whenever I went with my family to Lexington, Kentucky I would wake up to the smell of sausage gravy and biscuits. The smell irked me but whenever I could smell that my aunt was cooking this unusual dish I knew one thing. Uncle Rick would be coming over. This was usually a small part of my trip to Lexington, but the moments like these are why I believe in the small memories are the ones that count.
Sausage gravy and biscuits was the type of thing that you either loved or hated. I for one hated it. It consisted of thick, odd-looking gravy with giant chucks of smelly sausage stewed to what my aunt called perfection. Once it was done it was ladled over warm biscuits. The biscuits alone were delicious: warm and buttery just how a biscuit should be. But when you added the gravy it just threw the balance off entirely.
Thankfully I could always look forward to the fact that my Uncle Rick was coming over. Rick was a tall muscular man with a bubbly personality that could make the room light up. He drove a motorcycle and his favorite food in the whole entire world was none other then Aunt Kibby’s sausage gravy and biscuits. My aunt would never change what she made on those mornings because making sausage gravy and biscuits was a way to show her love for her son. I always wondered how he would always clean his plate after this meal because I hated it so much. Sometimes I would try to eat a couple of bites just to show Rick that it didn’t care to me what he ate. After we ate breakfast he would always stay after to help clean up and talk my brother and I. He would tell us wonderful stories and sometimes take us fishing