Dill, Cloves and Fresh Ginger

I stand alone in my kitchen, chopping up a salad
And the aroma of the fresh dill fills up my head to the top
Igniting some old switch, and it all comes to me.
I love dill because it reminds me of you.
The smell takes me back twenty years to your kitchen,
To the smell of cinnamon and cloves, and you standing tall
With your short hair pulled back and your little radio turned on.
That is probably why I love drinking herbal tea with cloves.
My taste buds can recognize it no matter how deeply buried
Because you, and everything you have taught me, are lining the walls of my insides.
I find myself longing to show you what I'm making for dinner,
How I finally eat fish now, like you've always wanted me to.
I long to show you my wedding gown and some jewellery you would love,
talk to you about my husband and his compassion towards others.
I long for a conversation with you as the adult that I am today,
like two friends with common interests and lifestyles,
validating one another's choices and decisions.
Does this mean I am growing to become like you?
Were you shaping me all these years without lessons or sermons,
just by being yourself and exposing me to the woman you are?
I wonder if you would've been proud of the woman that I am today,
and how I wrap my fresh ginger in paper towels the way you always did.