Mother tongue: flavors of love

It is snowing in London. No way the girls get a day off tomorrow, the snow turned in rain the last hours....
Winter just begun and there is still plenty of time they will get their day off.
I wish it was for tomorrow.
A cosy day at home, just the 4 of us.
The street looks so lovely, a white velvet blanket and cotton flakes like bird nest in the bold trees.
Hot chocolate.
Banana cake.
Apple compote.
Lazy attitude.
Food means relation and it shares feelings of home, our home is here in London, no doubt no worries. The language of food, sharing a dish, sitting together at the table in the kitchen.
Flavors that fill the heart of the home.
Discussions about the mother tongue. What is the mother tongue, is that what I spoke with my mother and then later on with my babies? It seems to me that their mother tongue is French and they feel good while speaking my mother tongue with me. When we are in the kitchen and make food there is never a question of mother tongue. There is flavor, taste, memories, moments, places we share.
Love, food, parents, children, generation, roots, feeling home.