Mom's Chili

There’s a secret ingredient
mixed in among the kidney beans
in between the slightly stewed tomatoes,
not too many but just enough for flavor.
It’s there bubbling around the browned meat
mixing in with the tomato juice
adding spice to the chili pepper.
As we sit down to eat
she serves me a bowl
my mouth salivates
God I love this chili.
And it’s not the dash of cinnamon she sprinkles in
When she thinks we’re not looking.
It’s not the wooden spoon passed on
by Grandma.
Mom has another secret ingredient.
One she uses only when she makes her chili.
I caught her mixing it in one time,
when she thought I was napping in the other room.
I peeked around the corner, hoping to swipe a taste.
There I saw my mom humming as she stirred.
Humming a tune that I still hear as I fall asleep.
And suddenly, Mom’s chili is more than just a dinner.
It’s the comfort of knowing I’m home.
The reassurance that I’m loved.
It’s Mom’s chili.
The chili with the hum.